Momma?

The other afternoon, J and I had overlapping work schedules. Fortunately, we have a very talented babysitter who is happy to help out in just those situations. She’s in high school, child CPR certified, and great with the kids.

She showed up at 5pm, which was what J had arranged. I, however, didn’t have to leave until 5:30. I whipped dinner together and we sat down to an abbreviated meal. We make it a point to have sit-down meals with the kids for dinner and breakfast every day.

The babysitter joined us, of course, braving my cooking.

As we were settling around the table, C (the five year old) suddenly pointed at her. “Hey! It’s just like normal – except now you’re our momma!”

His little brother clapped. “Yeah!”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more startled high schooler. I leapt into the awkward pause as quickly as I could. “No… She’s not momma! Silly! Momma will be back later tonight.”

“Yeah,” she echoed, with a weak smile.

Note to self: no more stand-ins for momma at the family dinners.

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