Confessions of a Bad Mother

(This is the first in an occasional series of true confessions.)

Dear Bloggie,

I am a bad mother. Today, I bought the boys milkshakes for snacks before religious school, and I left the car window open. I let the gnats in, and my poor children had them as a protein boost in their shakes.

To compound the problem, I shoved my children out of the car at religious school. As I sped away cackling with glee, my cell phone rang. It was the religious school. My first thought was, “Good G-d, how could they have gotten in trouble so fast?” It turned out that Wizard was calling from the religious school office, demanding that I return immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You have to come back NOW,” Wizard demanded.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” I replied, alarmed.

“I left my phone in the car. Turn around and bring it to me now.”

“Are you kidding me? I can’t turn around now. I’m on the highway, halfway home.”

“Where are you? Just turn around!”

“I can’t ‘just turn around’. I’m 2 miles from the nearest exit.”

“I need my phone, Mom.”

“No, you do not need your phone. You want your phone, and I am not bringing it you. BYE!”

Oh, Bloggie, l lied to my child. I wasn’t on the highway. I was on my way to Starbucks, and there was no way in hell that | was turning around!

Here I sit, in a rarified double-mocha-salted-caramel-frappa-latte’d haven, listening to satellite-driven music as custom-blended as my frothy drink. I contemplate the error of my ways and find that I am . . . unrepentant.

Shamelessly,
Alto2

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