I’m a mom. We all have gas from various orifices at times, and I try to keep mine on the quieter side. I must be successful more than I think. Recently, a large burp snuck up on me, and I belched loudly. From the other room, I heard my ten-year-old…
Daughter: “Dad’s home!”
She was a little disappointed to have to wait longer to see him. And a little impressed that her mother could sound like that.
One of my kids is being a little cheeky.
Teen Daughter: *To me.* “Woman, I need dinner!”
Me: *Nonchalantly.* “There are leftovers from last night in the fridge.”
Teen Daughter: *Clearly expecting a different reaction.* “Uh, Woman…?”
Me: “Jesus called Mary ‘Woman’ when He performed His first public miracle, in the wedding at Cana. If Jesus calls His mom “Woman,” I certainly won’t mind at all.”
It took a bit of explaining when my husband wondered why all three kids were suddenly calling me ‘Woman’!
A few months before I got married, my mom gave me a bit of womanly advice.
Mom: “Obviously this isn’t my business, but I’m just going to mention it; whatever you do for birth control, your older brother says to use it every time and your younger brother says it might not always work.”
Me: “Wait, I knew my younger brother was a surprise, but they both were?”
Mom: “Dad and I love you all, and we’re thrilled you’re all here, but yes. You’re the only one we had on purpose.”
I’m walking around the stadium at a football game, and notice a huge line of men waiting for the bathroom… and one woman in the line as well. I ponder a moment, and as I pass her, I get her attention.
Me: “Hi, just in case you don’t already know, this is the line for the men’s room.”
Woman: “What?! I thought I was in line for a hot dog!”
She quickly exits and joins a different (and much shorter) line at the nearby concession stand.
I’m driving with my ten-year-old in my Odyssey minivan that’s nearly twice her age. A Cybertruck passes us. I don’t know enough about cars to know if they’re any good, but I do know they’re weird-looking, and my child seems to agree.
Ten-Year-Old: “That’s so ugly. I’d rather drive a beat-up Honda than a Cybertruck.”
Me: *Laughing.* “This IS a beat-up Honda!”
