Act 1, sc i Me: Look, girls, a new yoga studio. 14 yo friend: ANOTHER yoga place?! Me: This one is yoga and barre. 14 yo: It's a bar too? Other 14 yo: Not bar, barre. 14 yo friend: Could you imagine? A bar and yoga? That would be every mother’s dream. Me: You girls know way too much. End scene. My four year old whacked his head on the coffee table not once but
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Act I, sc i Me: Excuse me sir... I'm not getting fresh with you, I just need some rhubarb. Man: Hon, I'm 86. Getting fresh with me would be like getting fresh with that rhubarb. (He turns to a woman approaching) Oh, here's my wife. She's caught us flirting. Wife: (looks at me) You can have him! 66 years of marriage, I'm done. End scene. Last weekend, my husband and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary. Because
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Act I, sc i 4 year old: Where are we going now? Me: Home. Four year old: Oh, we're going home from the wine store? Me: Well, yes. We finished our errands. We went to the supermarket and wine store. Now we're going home. Four year old: ...from the wine store. Me: ...and the supermarket. Four year old: ...and the wine store. End scene. Charles Dickens got it wrong. A Christmas Carol may make a
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Act I, sc i Early morning, near soccer fields. My husband, 12-year old son and I are walking through a parking lot toward the fields. 12 year old is looking at his phone talking to me about the weather in the region. Husband: Son, stop talking to your mother. I can see her zapping the testosterone right out of you. When my children were babies, they looked exactly like my husband. It was a fact readily
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The week that my four year old proclaimed, “Mom, I hear the mooing of the cows of the universe,” was the same week that my daughter almost got hit by a car, she received her Confirmation, and our grill, literally, went up in flames. The mooing that my toddler heard was, in reality, the alarm of our volunteer fire department -- a deep honking noise projected throughout the town in measured blasts that might, now
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Act I, sc i My kitchen as I prepare lunch boxes. It is morning. Me: (to my 12 year old son) Do you want your leftover pasta from the restaurant last night? 12 year old: No, I didn’t really like the sauce. Me: Really? I thought it was delicious. 12 year old: (pauses) Well, I guess I’m just not really used to homemade sauce. 14 year old daughter: Whhhaaat? Me: What do you mean? 12 year
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