Boob or Bottle: A Funny Family Take on Honesty
“You fed us with your boob?!?” Before we stroll down “anatomy” lane, I think proper introductions are in order. My name is Mommy and in case you haven’t picked up on it, I’m a mother. Not just any mother but the “bestest Mommy in the whole wide world.” That’s right: the bestest—well I used to be; but I’m getting ahead of myself. To fully appreciate the entirety of my fall from grace, we must return to the scene of the crime; to the night in question that resulted in the inevitable demise of my entire kingdom. I was tried, convicted and stripped of my royal title and for what? Honesty? Serving my subjects faithfully and dutifully? You be the judge.
It all began on a Wednesday. The time: 6:05pm. The theme: Family Fun Night. The place: bestest Mommy’s Headquarters aka the kitchen. The night began like any other: lively board game fun, stimulating chatter about booties and boogers and of course the most popular attraction—food. Laid out in typical buffet fashion, our favorite family snacks decked the table: cheddar wheat chips, French onion dip, fresh yogurt parfait and a savory sampling of homemade goodies from bestest Mommy’s bakery.
For two hours, we ate together, laughed at each other and “trash talked” our way through typical fun night games: Tic Tac No He Cheated, Connect Six is too Better Than Four and the ever favorite U(no) You Can’t Call that Before I Put My Card Down. Yes, family fun night was in full swing and fortunately for my aching head, it was coming to a close and Open Mic Night was just getting started; and yes, it works exactly how it sounds.
You get a mic, or in this case an inverted hair brush and you ask any question on any topic of your choosing. In return for steadfast audacity, you are guaranteed the Open Mic pledge: a 100% no fluff, no sugar coated, honest-to-God truthful answer (for audiences ten years and younger, of course).
With grace and expertise, I fielded life’s most hard-hitting questions: why did God give me a brother, why do grownups slobber when they kiss and the most difficult of them all will Optimus Prime be in heaven when I get there? Each question was countered in typical kingdom fashion: a flawless execution. Bestest Mommy was here to stay and with the final question at hand, my reign would be solidified for another seven day term. I was certain that whatever it was, it didn’t stand a chance.
So, naturally when my daughter asked the question I didn’t flinch. I don’t even think I breathed or blinked. With everything on the line, I just couldn’t take the chance.
“So, Mommy tell us, when we were babies did you feed us with your boob or the bottle?” She could barely say the words without laughing hysterically. Apparently, boob is a much funnier word than I realized. Still, I was undeterred in my mission. My reign was at stake.
In confident display, I looked my daughter, and son, in the eye, erased the smile from my face and let the truth be known: “I fed you with the boob.” What happened next will go down as the single greatest upset in the history of woman.
“What?!? You fed us with your boob?!? Eww. That’s gross. What kind of mother does that?”
And with that, my long standing reign came to a screeching halt. Bestest Mommy was dethroned—indefinitely. I tried to spout off all the medical benefits of the boob: healthier babies, higher IQ’s, etc. I even played the “that’s what real mothers do” card. No offense to the bottle feeding mothers reading this story. I was desperate; not that it did me any good.
So, now I’m just Mommy. No title, no kingdom, just Mommy; and like many of you, I’m paying the price for being that kind of mother who even in the face of such grave opposition, does what’s in the best interest of her children. My only hope is that someday it’ll actually pay off. Either that or I ask for a refund—not that it would do me any good. But a mother can hope, can’t she?
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