I slowly backed away. The animal glared with menacing ferocity. The wild hair, coal-black and protruding in every direction, coiled like a cobra ready to strike. As I glanced at the beast, the hairs on my neck stood at attention while a shiver rippled down my spine. As I slowly inched away, I noticed I was holding my breath. As each second passed, I waited for the creature to change its mind, to decide that indeed the substitution I had offered was worthless. The brown limbs of the animal stretched out, allowing me to see just how long it actually was. Though the limbs were thin, I was sure that gave the animal speed like lightening. With one wrong move, my idyllic day would suddenly turn into one of terror.
I was right. The beast was not fooled by my trickery. The substitution was not cutting it. With impressive force, the animal hurled the crimson rectangle back at me, narrowly missing my eyes. Simultaneously and seemingly involuntarily, the beast let out a dramatic, blood-curdling scream.
“NOT THAT ONE!!!”
I had been found out. The toddler did not want the clean, perfectly good, red Lego. No, no. Only the blue one, covered by his baby brother’s excessive drool, would suffice. Proving logic to reign supreme, the beastly creature spun two circles, then flopped on the ground, producing tears at lightening speed. His face contorted—lips curling up and out, nose scrunching to reveal three wrinkles, and eyes squinting to slits.
I had to stifle a laugh. The laugh was a mixture of genuine humor at the manufactured drama of the situation and a good helping of “laugh-so-you-don’t-cry” mentality. Some days, the drama of a middle school girl is no match for that of a two-year old.
So here’s to you, mamas! Here’s to your coffee being stronger than your toddler. Here’s to you counting the minutes until nap time. Here’s to you eating your snack in the laundry room so you don’t have to share. I see you. I am you. Mamas make the world go ‘round.