I love my children more than anything, especially on Mother’s Day because the eldest, Munchkin #1, my almost 1st grader-to-be assumes that the day means that she should lavish me with praise (correct), gifts (correct), hugs and kisses (correct), and never leave my side (**chirp, chirp, chirp…**).
My other daughter loves me just as much as the elder, but is a polar opposite breed. She is so far different from her sister she could almost be listed in the “mineral” family – if it weren’t for her brilliant comic timing and hyper-personality for diving into BARCO loungers to perform headstands 24/7. Munchkin #2 is prone to giving of the gifts (correct), hugs and kisses (correct), but then she snuggles for 10 minutes, tells a story and then makes her BIG exit. She is done. The rest is fluff!
So this year, the girls and my wonderful husband made me breakfast in bed, along with homemade cards, fresh flowers cut from our garden (I assume it was ours), and then Munchkin #1 set up camp in bed with me and during the next few minutes of bonding time with my cherished beauties, we talked about mothers and grandmothers. I told them stories about a gracious grandmother of mine who never used potty words and was so kind to others… and how everyone just loved her!
They then started asking about when I would be a grandmother and how that would work. I said they might have children someday MUCH later and I would then become their kids’ grandmother.
Munchkin #1 said dreamily, “I’m going to name my daughters Arianna and Marietta.” She seemed quite pleased with her choices.
Without missing a beat, Munchkin #2 blurted, “I’m naming mine Fart and Bacon.”
“What did you say?” I asked, just in case I had mango juice filling up my ear canals.
“FART and BACON!” She beamed.
There are few times in my life when I am speechless or don’t have free advice to dole out; but a parent has to be careful handling these matters, unless you really want to introduce your future odoriferously-named grandchildren to your bridge group.
Well, if you can imagine a melodramatic 6 year-old girl’s bubble being burst, that’s what happened.
The older child flops back on the pillows, “MO-OM, you mean Fart and Bacon are going to be cousins with Arianna and Marietta?! Oh, great!”
(**chirp, chirp, chirp**)
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