Yesterday in the car, every time I had to apply the brakes, like to avoid hitting the car in front of me, getting a ticket, or plowing down pedestrians, Jonathan shrieked at me from the backseat: Mama, you keep making my gameboy drop! Stop dropping my gameboy.
This is just so like a little kid! He had no concern or no empathy for my trying to get us home safely. The gameboy falling had nothing to do with him not holding onto it tight enough.
Lately, Jonathan's favorite thing to say to me is: You're mean, Mama! And my reply is, I'm not mean, I'm your Mama!
I guess, meaning, I have to be a little mean, or I wouldn't be your mama, I would just be some lady that makes you food and juice cups and never requires anything of you in return.
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