Thursday, February 10, 2005

Small Comfort

Last night I put the wrong toothpaste on Vida's toothbrush, a mistake for which I was soundly rebuked. I told her she was not allowed to rebuke her mother. She harumphed and went to sleep. Then this morning, she came to my bedside and roused me from a reasonable slumber with the four words you don't want to hear at 7 am: "Mom. Mom. Mom! MOM!"

"What is it, Vi? Sheesh."

"I'm sorry about the toothpaste."

"What? Oh. It's okay."

"I just wanted the other kind."

"I know."

"Mom's forget that kind of thing."

"Yup. I forgot."

"Don't worry. Sometimes when you get old, you lose your mind."

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