Momnesia

The 2009 Christmas List Will Not Include Smarty Pants

AUGUSTA, GA - Emmie and I are play-wrestling on the couch when she leans forward. I throw my leg up to catch her before she falls, but my big toe caught her chin. Right where she just got her stitches taken out. Galdang.

"Meeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhh!" She began to wail. "Mama! I was playing but you kick me in da face!"

Because I was in the bathroom but my leg whipped itself down the hall, around the corner, and poked her "in da stitches" with my big toe. So the play-by-play was very helpful in bringing me up to speed.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry!" I cooed, moving her hands to make sure I hadn't done any permanent damage. She wailed and glared at me, the corners of her mouth pulling down so far that they defy her very muscular structure.

"I'm wan' my daaaadeeeeeeee!" She wails, unconsoled.

"Okay, sweetie," I coo, plucking her from the sofa. "You can go tell on me if it makes you feel better."

She run-hops into the bedroom and begins her banshee impression for Scott.

"An' it wuzzunt an' accident!" She finishes.

"Hey!" I round the corner into the bedroom. "It was an accident, sweetie. Mama would never hurt you on purpose."

Mama always refrains from giving into the urge to bounce things off your head.

"It was SO on purpose!" She wails.

"Okay," I say, in what I hope is a soothing voice. I don't want her thinking I'd ever kick her in the face - nor do I want her telling other people that I kicked her in the face, because y'all know about some preschoolers' complete lack of conversational filters, right? "I think someone needs some family snuggle time."

I tuck her into bed beside Scott and snuggle in beside her for a big family hug.

"Honey, mama would neber eber hurt you on purpose. I'm so sorry."

"Mama," she turns to me, face somber. " Your time runned out."



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