I Must Be Doing Something Right

Motherhood can be thankless, but my four year old daughter is not. Her manners are impeccable; her perspective, astute. One day we were riding in the car when she dropped her juice box. This is a story that illustrates my premise.

I leaned back from my seat on the front passenger side and reached blindly for the carton. My arm did a lot of flailing as the center console dug into my chest, which was protected only by the merest hint of cleavage-enhancing foam. I made an "umph" sound to ensure that my effort would be noted. A few more lunges awarded me the prize, and I waved it victoriously in The Boss's direction. She reached out from her five-point perch and grabbed the juice.

As I settled back into my seat, I heard the Boss's sweet "thanks, mom." This time I only had to crane my neck slightly to smile at her. She brought the juice box to her mouth, then paused before taking a sip. "You come in handy sometimes," she said.