It's A Gift

I saw a commercial the other day where a cartoon Dad is feeling a little stressed by a screaming baby. Then his teenaged daughter walks in and and introduces her new friend, "Dad, meet 'Snake!'"


I have to be honest, everyone who comes home with one of my children gets the Eyeball. It's a little gift I picked up from my Dad. . .the simple closing of the left eye and harsh stare from the right sends the message: Don't make me hurt you. When it's coupled with a crooked grin it's doubly intimidating (according to my dear husband. . .and my brothers-in-law. . .)


Maybe it's because I realize that each of these "intruders" wields a certain amount of power over MY baby, who heretofore has been guided by MY suggestions and demands.


"Son, you need to shave that scraggly chin. . ."


"But Mom, she thinks it's sexy!"





I often "joke" with the friends who dare to cross the threshold of Chez McKnight. . .threatening their person with severe bodily harm and adding a little chuckle at the end constitutes a "joke," right? But now a few of them are beginning to get wise to my tactics. One brave soul now comes bearing food: chocolate pie and bagels! Others laugh heartily at my jokes, even the stupid ones! I think they're "on" to me.


And now, the Pièce de résistance - Black Jack's fiancée, a dang ALABAMA fan, crocheted me a beautiful purple and gold purse. (Excuse me, does anyone have a tissue??)


What am I supposed to do now?? Like these people??


I guess I'll just have to invite them to spend a good amount of time in my presence, regaling them with entertaining stories of those thrilling days of yesteryear, when I was the center of my childrens' world.


My kids love it when it do that. . .those fond memories are my little gift to them.


Have fun!