Little Mommy

As a mommy, I spend an inordinate amount of time saying things like, “Be careful!” “Slow down!” “Did you remember to floss?” and “They’re vegetables, nobody likes them but we eat them anyway because humankind’s future is inexplicably bound to our consumption of leafy greens!”

It’s simply the way of parenthood; we all end up saying things that sound eerily like the things our parents told us. I’m not even certain how I got to this point. I never sat around in my twenties telling my friends, “Gee, I really hope that one day I have to spend the better part of a day telling a five-year-old that no, her butt is not like a glue stick.” Yet I have had that very butt/glue stick conversation on more occasions than I care to recount.

And now this whole parenting thing has taken yet another bizarre turn as my daughter keeps having these moments of acting like she is my mother.

Like the other night, my husband and I were seeing who could hold a plank the longest. Apparently I started convulsing after about four seconds and then the painful groaning began. I avoided my normal pitfall of swearing profusely (mostly because I didn’t have the strength for profanity) but my daughter decided it was simply too much for me.

“Mommy, just stop; you’re going to get hurt. Mommy, this is enough!” she yelled at me while her brow furrowed with genuine worry.

I made it to thirty seconds then dropped (my husband was the clear winner, holding the plank all the while laughing at me). My daughter patted my back and said, “It’s okay Mommy.” Her gesture simultaneously melted my heart and bruised my already fragile ego.

She had another one of her mommy moments as we walked to the park together last week. There’s no sidewalk, so I was walking closest to the street with her on the inside; every time a car came down the street, my daughter would grab my hand a little tighter and pull me towards her saying, “Mommy, a car is coming, get over here with me!” Her eyes were filled with what I can only hope is the same concern she sees in mine when I pull her closer.

I guess it’s not bad having this little mommy look out for me. But if she ever tries to make me eat lima beans, I’m grounding her for a month.

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