Slurping soup

So baby Tucker has this whole “siren like” crying thing going on, and he’s flinging his carrots back at me while we sit at the dinner table and I try to feed myself with my other hand. Meanwhile, my 8-year-old daughter is sitting across the table with a blank stare, chewing her food like a camel–slow as possible–and opening her mouth nice and wide to make sure I know exactly how disgusting my meatloaf dinner was. I don’t know why I try to cook!
Thankfully, after a stressful, messy dinner, both of the kids found great joy in rolling a Gatorade bottle up and down the hallway for like an amazing amount of time. Go figure! Big sister rolled it and crawling baby chased after it as fast as he could, and they were both tickled to death. That gave me a chance to sit in the recliner and relax–and think about what kind of disgusting casserole I could cook for dinner the next night!
Thankfully, my husband stepped up to the plate and cooked a nice big pot of beans, and everyone enjoys his cooking. Ironically, as I ate a bowl of bean soup the next evening, my little daughter looked up at me with horror and said “Mother, stop slurping!”
I was like, “And this from the little girl who was deliberately chewing with her mouth open yesterday?”
“Well we weren’t princesses yesterday!” she said in response to me. That’s when she pointed to her imaginary crown, and reminded me that, “Today I am a princess and you are the queen.”
Dang it! And just when I wanted to be a regular soup-slurping peasant woman! Here’s to being a mom or a queen or whatever you are today!