The child insists only mama knows how to make a Lunchable. Yes, a Lunchable. The thing that comes in a box already prepared. I admit, I do take the time to spread the sauce equally across the 3 tiny pitas and dispense exactly the same amount of yellow and white cheese on each, but what savage doesn't?
Looking at the photo, I thought, "Hmm, I don't remember us going to downtown Seattle to see Christmas lights. The only time we did that it was not such a good time." Clearly these people were having fun! They were making memories! Starting traditions! You could practically smell the peppermint infused cocoa on their breath. Wait, that's definitely Bailey's wafting off the mom.
And just as he was about to disappear into the double doors of the abyss, he turned around, giving me one last chance to fix this dreadful, horrific mistake. Maybe he saw a crack in my foundation. Maybe he had beaten me down. Maybe he saw his father being comforted by a group of fifth graders. Whatever it was, he saw his last chance and made a break for it, still holding the sign, and headed right for me-- his mother, protector, sanctuary, source of all that’s comforting-- who was yelling, “Get away from me, child!" as she braced for impact.