I think First Born Prince was 3-years-old the first time he figured out I would let him down as a guardian of his fine mind and perfect health. He came home from a play date at his best friend, Alec’s house. His tone was indignant.
“Mom! Why did you let me eat junk?”
“What junk?”
“M&Ms! Alec’s mom says they are junk! Why would you let me eat them?”
Where to begin, little man.
It was a great reminder that he depends on me to take all the hits for him. I hate being the master of “no” and giver of whole grain. Sometimes I wish I did have a wire earpiece rigged to a team. I could blame it all on the other end of the radio headset. “Sorry, Charlie, I would let you watch that R-rated movie, but headquarters says, ‘Too violent.’ Sorry.” “Me? Of course I think it would be fun to stay up late! But the director is all over me from now through Christmas.”
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