Early this morning when I was five minutes from shewing the children out the door for science class, Pooh Bear whined about Wise One getting more breakfast than her. She weighs a whooping 37 pounds at the grand old age of seven, so I assumed the two packages of oatmeal had filled her tummy just fine. She moped until I agreed to toast her an additional frozen waffle. "But Wise One got two waffles and a big bowl of peaches!" she exclaimed. Next she narrowed her eyes, shot me the look of death, placed her hands on hips, screwed up her chapped little lips to whimper, "And I don't think there is really such a thing anymore as the greatest mom in the world either."
I turned my head to mute my giggle and hide my smile.
You are so right about that one, Pooh Bear. There is no such thing, at least in this house.
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