DEAR READER: WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE, YOUR MOTHER?

So I am peaceably having a grand old time yukking it up with the cool people of WordPress when my Sun comes to me to complain about The Moon.

Great. Just Great. I’m in my flow, and these two entities come in disrupting all of that. I peel my eyes away from the computer screen and ask,

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know what to do about The Moon.”

“What do you mean?” Oh, God, now what? There’s always something up with this kid. I take a deep breath, preparing for a lengthy interaction. “What’s he doing?”

“How long does he want me to play with him?”

“Huh?” I’m thinking, What the hell? Why is my life being interrupted for this? 

“I’m playing with The Moon, and I want to know for how long?”

She’s standing there looking at me with an air of expectancy, knowing I’m going to give her an answer because I’m supposed to. This child has a mouth, I don’t know why she doesn’t want to use it on him.

I’ll tell you why.

He is a terror when he’s feeling all hurt and neglected and hating his life. Not my interpretation, he tells it himself. This is The Moon’s dramatic perception of how his family treats him.

“How should I know? Why are you asking me? I didn’t tell you to play with him. YOU ask him that question.”

The Sun is ALWAYS working an angle for me to be her mouth piece. And yet, refuses to listen to the words which exit this same mouth when it’s speaking to her about questions she’s asked about or when I am giving her guidance after she’s come to me wanting me to tell her about how she feels when she’s unable to articulate.

Of course, by now The Moon gallops into the room and sits down to listen in. I’m looking at him thinking, This kid. I so don’t want to deal with this and/or him today. I look at The Sun and see the same expression on her face. She doesn’t want to deal with his annoying behind either.

The nerve! The both of them are hanging around waiting for me to get my Solomon sword out and cut the damn baby in half. Ain’t this some shit. I’m here just minding my business, and now I’m in the middle of something that, for once, I did not force them into.

“What? Don’t look at me. You all came in here into my space. This is for you to work out not me. What do I look like, your mother?”

The Sun huffs indignantly and says,

“Well, yeah!”

And I say,

“Not today, I’m not.” “Bye!” “Go away!”

nf-badge-1linerweds-2017

Inspired by Linda G. Hill’s One Liner Wednesday

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13 thoughts on “DEAR READER: WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE, YOUR MOTHER?

  1. Yup. I know this one. What are we going to do today…just sit around the house? We’re bored. And then I break into a PINK song – I’m not here for your entertainment…you don’t wanna mess with me tonight!

    I’m working – leave me alone –

    That doesn’t look like work, mom. That looks like facebook. And your blog. Wait, are you blogging about me? (now I break into Robert Deniro, are you looking at me?) as I’m pushing them back into the living room. MY space here – your space there. Go away.

    Liked by 1 person

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