Momnesia

The Role of Children is to Provide Love and Embarrassment

AUGUSTA, GA - Emmie and I are play-wrestling on the bed and I get to laughing so hard, for so long, that I start to choke on my own laughter. It triggers something in my allergies and suddenly I'm gasping for breath and enjoying a lovely dose of post-nasal drip.

Emmie springs into action.

"You needa dahtor," she cries, and runs to get Scott in the living room.

"Dad! Mama gots llergeries and can't breeve! I gotta call da dahtor!"

Scott come into the bedroom while I try to keep from starting to laugh again. Llergeries! Oh, crap, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!

"Are you okay?" He asks, amusement mixing with vague concern.

"I'm alright," I gasp, clearing my throat repeatedly. What are my llergeries producing, for crying out loud... spackle?

"She NOT awright! She NEED da dahtor!"

"Emmie!" I sit up. "I'm okay. I don't need a doctor, see?"

She's holding the phone and eyeing me with concern and disbelief.

"No. I goeend ta call da dahtor. You gots llergeries. You need ta go to da HOSPITAL."

I gently pry the phone from her hands and place it back on the charger.

"You are so sweet, Emmie, and such a good girl. Thank you for helping mommy. But who are you going to call?"

"I goeend call da dahtor."

"Really?" I try to keep my voice from dripping with skepticism. "And what's his number?"

"911," she replies, with a knowing toss of her head.

Oh.

Well, that could have been embarrassing to explain.


Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile