“I think I’m going to eat Mum for dessert because she’s so sweet.”
My first response was to pick my eyes up from where they had fallen out on the bench. Then I asked my little second-born Rambo, what had prompted that statement.
“Because you are Mum!”
This is the daughter we affectionately named (at least that’s what we tell her) Lulu-home-wrecker, the one responsible for my grey hair the hiding of which costs enough to power a small city and may be reason to send her to a public school.
Wow! moments like this can totally make so many things pale into insignificance: The nosedive into the lake on Mother’s day after being told not to go near the edge; the subsequent tantrum because I have no control over my mouth and threatened not to replace the new sparkly shoes; giving a black felt pen to Diesel to chomp on before he puked permanent ink onto the carpet.
I gave her a hug and told her thank you for the lovely comment, and turned back to the sink. When I turned back there was my second born yanking Diesel’s ear just to see what he would do. Thank God those moments of gorgeousness help ease the pain.