She's Over Me

Mopsy was doing her usual whiny lament today:

"I want to play with a children who's a girl who doesn't live in our house who lives on our street."

This is a long-winded way of saying she wants to hang with her homies, Simone and Gaby, who she plays with almost every day. She'd move in with them if she could. But today, alas, these two "children who are girls who don't live in our house but live on our street" had other plans with their cousins. Mopsy was distraught. (I can only imagine the fallout when she's one day blown off by a boy she's in love with.) So I suggested what I thought was a perfectly lovely -- maybe even attractive -- alternative: me.

Clearly, I don't meet three of her four criteria, but I assumed she'd give me a pass. But no.

"I don't want to play with you," she said. "You're too Mommyish."

"Mommyish?" I asked, intrigued. "What's that?"

"You always have to do things first," she explained.

"Let's go biking right now. Just let me finish sweeping," I said as I tidied up the last four feet of our front walk.

"See!"

Aha. Mom's guilty as charged.