A few weeks ago I visited my coworker and her family—husband, newborn son, and young daughter who knows me well. (When she see me now she says, “You hurt your tailbone! I need to be careful so I don’t fall and hurt my butt!”)
While the baby was sleeping, my friend and I gossiped about work. Her daughter was riding her trike around the house is a large circle, and every time she passed me, she’d have some new rule.
“Amanda, don’t pick this up until I am gone, OK?” She’d put down a small purse on the arm of the couch.
“Amanda, pretend to eat the peas!” Plastic bowl of peas was put next to the purse.
“Amanda, hold all of the money.” Big wad of cash was handed to me.
After the two dozenth rule, I said, “You are going to stress your first boyfriend out with all of these rules.”
She narrowed her eyes, and angled her trike forty-five degrees away from me. She tossed her curly hair over her shoulders, looked at me, and sniffed, “You’re not my honey!”
Her wheels squealed with her departure.