Mother's Day

My precocious 3.5-yr-old chose today to first utter those three little words every mother deserves to hear on Mother's Day... "I hate you."

Yes, folks, it actually happened.

The morning started off so well. My husband let me go back to bed for about an hour while he made scrambled eggs and pancakes and managed our two little darlings. Turbo woke me up with kisses and a tug on my hand, saying in a sweet sing-songy voice, "Come on, mom. Breakfast is ready."

Turbo peppered my arms with more kisses as we stomped down the stairs. Smiley's tiny feet slapped the kitchen floor as she ran to me for a hug - I love that sound - and she reached her arms up to me and exclaimed, "Mama!" as if I were the person she most wanted to see in the whole wide world. Kisses, hugs, a little extra sleep (alone)... ah, bliss. Best Mother's Day ever.

As we at our yummy breakfast in harmonious peace, I opened my cards and cried a couple of happy tears at the love poured out in crayon. The cards were barely tucked safely away from maple syrup sticky fingers when, rather abruptly, Turbo ran downstairs and announced that he was going to watch a movie.

Me: "Not until everyone finishes breakfast. Please come back up here until we're all done eating."

Turbo, first with a loud sort of screaming noise, then: "I hate you guys!"

Silence.

Dad: "And there it is."

Seems the gift from my husband is very timely and appropriate:

In lieu of flowers, please send drinks.