The Takeover

This happens way more often than I'd like to admit. Lil' Miss asks for some lunch, some Banana Cream Pie yogurt, please. (Yes, she is slowly dipping her toes into the rest of the yogurt pool. Progress is being made.) She gobbles this down and then puts in a request for a fruit roll-up which I promptly agree to so that I can rush back onto the couch where I have been napping for the last half hour.

But re-entry into the sleeposphere is never achieved. The obnoxiously loud crinkling of the fruit roll-up wrapper has officially woken me up. Determined to hold onto some semblance of my slumber bliss, I choose the next best thing to sleep which, of course, is food. I decide on a sandwich to take advantage of the thinly-sliced smoked mesquite turkey I purchased from the deli a few days ago. After I finish making my plate, I yell out to Lil' Miss, "Do you want a turkey sandwich?" Now, I know she's going to say no , but every mother is fully aware that it's better to ask this question before you put everything away because the moment they see you sitting down at the table with your thickly-stacked turkey and cheese sandwich garnished with honey mustard pretzel nuggets and your tall glass of chilled lemonade and your excellent reading material (referred to as People Magazine by some common folk), and the big hunkin' smile plastered on your face, they're going to ask you for a sandwich.

I think I was four bites into my lunch when Lil' Miss "Whatcha Got There?" came strolling into the kitchen. I tried to play it cool, slowly chewing my sandwich and turning the pages of my magazine without ever making eye contact. But then it came. "Mom, can I have some?" I knew there was no way she would really eat a whole sandwich or even half of one so I offered, "How 'bout you just take a few bites off my plate?" And a few bites she did. And a few more. Until a small corner of crust was all that remained of my delicious sandwich. Now having worked her way through most of the pretzels, she was asking for more and while I was up getting HER more of MY pretzels, she climbed into my chair where she could have better access to the goods on my plate. I, apparently, will be sitting in the chair next to her now where my hand will be repeatedly slapped and swatted away as I reach for pretzels off my own plate.

Facing defeat, I realize there's not enough turkey left for another sandwich and anyways I'm too embarrassed now to show my face around the turkey and cheese who've both watched this entire humiliation unfold. So could you just do me a favor and tell me that I'm the one still in charge around here because I'm a little fuzzy on that point.