Last week, I flew across Canada to visit my mom, who’s been sick. I brought Emilia with me, because I figured – morbid creature that I am – that if anything happened to my mom, I wanted her last memories to be of her hellion granddaughter demanding more cake. I’m joking, of course. I wanted to bring Emilia because if there’s one thing that can boost my mother’s will to live, it’s watching Emilia run me into the ground. There’s a whole future of me getting a nice Emilia-sized dose of the medicine that I, as a girl, dished out to my own mother, and my own mother, quite understandably, wants to stick around to laugh at that.
So we flew across Canada to see my mom. Emilia likes flying across the country – she likes flying, generally – because she likes, as she says, ‘seeing what the world looks like to the moon.’ We usually keep the satellite map open on the little video screen, so that we can talk about what we’re flying over and what we just flew over and what we’re going to fly over next. It makes for interesting conversation. It makes for especially interesting conversation when Mommy’s ears haven’t popped and she’s partially deaf in one ear.
Conversation like this one, that we had on the way home… (read the rest of this post at Bad Mother Confidential. It’s totally worth it. It involves the word VAGINA.)