I bought The Jooj one of the $5 plastic golf sets from The-Mega-Store-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named the other day.
She promptly stuck her leg into the plastic golf bag and got it very stuck.
I promptly got my camera.
Then I realized just how wedged it was, and I got the Pam.
After we freed her battered little leg she told me "You gave me owies, Mami!"
I responded with "No, sweetie, YOU stuck your leg inside and Mami got you out. Mami helped you..."
And then she cut me off with a "Mami, just say you sorry!"
And so it begins. Do I need to write this on the calendar as "The day everything became my fault?" I BOUGHT her a new toy. I SHOWED her how to golf. I LET her hit the dog with a club one time to get it out of her system. I SPRAYED her with lubricant (the expensive baking kind, even!). And what do I get from this? Nothing but grief. Prior to this I was revising a post I had written about how there are some things only mothers can do--how we are the panaceas to so many of life's little hurts. And I am glad I didn't finish it because, apparently, I was all wrong. We are not the cure, we are the cause. Good to know.