Me: Isn’t this banana good?
Me: Are you sure? You seem to really love bananas?
Z: Nanas? Mo?
Me: No, that was our last banana.
Me: I promise I’m telling you the truth.
Me: Cookies for breakfast? What kind of mother would I be?
Me: I can’t. They arrest people for feeding their children cookies before noon.
Me: It’s not so much a literal imprisonment but a cultural one. And less like a physical jail but more a prison of shame.
Me: So we’re going to clean up and-
Me: Ok, then we’ll just sit here.
Me: Sure, sure. Um, we could meditate?
Me: I’m not sure why I keep offering you choices.
Me: That wasn’t even a yes or no thing.
Z: NO! NO! NOOOO!
Me: Zo, I’m trying. I’m really trying.
Me: Well that feels like an attack on my personhood.
Me: Yes, here’s the open wound. Just lay that salt right in there.
Z: DaDa! Kiss??
Me: You know, a lot of people think I’m really great. At least three people in this world would really delight in having my company over a breakfast of eggs and bananas.
Me: You’re missing the point…