My Indoctrination

I can tell when someone is attempting to nonchalantly decipher the origins of our family. There are leading questions, indicating what someone is about to say is rediculous. This is not to indicate Tom and I pull apart every comment made. However, there are those instances, when I want to tell the person about to ask the question, "I am going to prevent you from looking like a fool.  Before you open your mouth, kindly be quiet."

"How old is she," was the question that began a series of other absent minded thoughts from my cashier today. As she rambled on, I could tell the conversation was going to end with a real zinger. As I braced myself, the cashier asked "are you her real mom?" I wanted to respond with the following -"I have held her puke bucket in the back of the car after her second successful surgery, had the priviledge of looking into the most beautiful dark brown eyes I have ever seen, cleaned up diapers from giardia, seen love can move mountains, and would gladly go out in the parking lot and lay down in front of a moving vehicle for her. Yes, I am her real mother." Before I could say any of this, I decided simple answers are the best. "YES!" What followed was more amusing than annoying. "oh, really......," she said in a perplexed tone.

I am anxiously awaiting my return trip to this store to walk through with my husband. I am certain Tom, the original dutchboy will cause another degree of confusion!!!