There's this thing that I do.
Let's say I get the kids some kind of treat. Like ice cream or
cake. And because I realize I should not be eating ice cream or
cake, I do not order any for me.
But I really want a little taste.
My boys aren't exactly known for their generosity of spirit when
it comes to sharing ice cream or cake. In an act of desperation, I
implement a top-secret maneuver.
"Hang on, fellas," I tell them as the waitress delivers the
goodies to our table. "I need to check these all for POISON."
My trio waits patiently as I "test" each item. After all,
they've seen "Snow White." They understand how one drop of poison
can result in a bunch of dwarves sticking you in a glass box for
The kids breathe a collective sigh of relief as I wipe chocolate
frosting from my mouth and declare everything arsenic-free. They
can enjoy their desserts with a solid peace of mind, and I smile at
my devious moment of maternal subterfuge.
Time passes. The older ones figure me out. Dan and Jack now roll
their eyes and beg the waitress to just bring me my own damn sundae
or apple pie.
Yet Joey has gone a completely different route.
It does not matter whether it is ice cream or cereal. It does
not matter whether I am in the room or not. Whenever my youngest
takes a first bite of ANYTHING, he announces to the world at
"NOPE. DEFINITELY NO POISON IN THAT!"
I've started getting a lot of suspicious looks.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
I have been forced to explain the "toxin-checks" to family
members and friends. Not surprisingly, they are a bit appalled.
"You LIED to your kids?"
"You ATE their desserts?"
"You told them there could be POISON in their FOOD?"
When you say it like that? Yeah. I am the big bad villain.
But it's not like I ever sold myself on being "the fairest of
them all." I've never picked flowers in a field. Or talked to
bunnies. Or sang about how some day my prince will come.
I like the fairy tale I'm writing instead. It's one where the
Evil Queen drives a powder blue minivan and thinks that Snow White
is a desperate bore. Sure, there are moments of deception and
vanity ("Mirror, Mirror on the wall, can I afford Botox at all?"),
but what clever kids really want a guileless Snow White as their
mom anyway? I mean come on. The queen tries to poison her like 12
times and the nitwit keeps falling for it.
My boys would eat her alive.
Mostly because they'd still be hungry after I ate all their
Marianne is mother of three sons and the wife of a southside Irish fireman. She has learned that sometimes you're just too dumb to know what makes you happy. She blogs regularly at We Band of Mothers (webandofmothers.com) and curses with even greater frequency. Her material is written for the imperfect, the imprudent, and the impatient mothers who know that all this stuff is really very funny if you just give it a minute.
See more of Marianne's stories here.
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