As a mother of three children, it takes a lot to ruffle my feathers. I don’t jump every time I hear one of them say “ouch.” When they come to me to speak of the injustices brought upon them by their siblings, I calmly say, “Are you bruised, bleeding, or broken? No? Then, please don’t tattle.” When they politely inform me of the all the ways Joseph’s mom, or Kylie’s dad, or Bella’s Uncle Ray are so much better than me, I smile and thank them for their input.
So the other night, when I was asked to pick up a child to transport her to a meeting, I thought nothing of it. The child in question is, according to every adult who knows her, an insufferable pain in the behind, but I am a good person. I was willing to help her get to where she needed to go, and maybe get her away from her psychotic parents for a couple hours. Wait, did I just go there? Why yes, I do believe I did.
I picked up the little girl, and instantly we were engaged in conversation. The only way to tell you about this conversation is in a “transcript” format, so I’ll do that here. Keep in mind that sometimes eye-witness accounts are “colored” by the person’s own biases, so the words I used may not be 100% accurate. These words may not have actually escaped my lips, but trust me…oh, trust me my friend, they were the words in my head.
Bad Kid (BK): (immediately after getting in the car) Your car is a mess, Mrs. Sass.
Perfect Mom Sass (PMS): Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed that.
BK: You have wrappers and stuff all over the car. Maybe you should clean it up.
PMS: Well, yes, that is a good thought. But I’m sure a busy mommy, you know.
BK: Too busy to clean your car? That’s bad. You don’t even work! What are you so busy with?
PMS: Oh, you know. Volunteering, helping at the school, giving rides to snot-nosed little ingrates whose mothers are too high on crack to take them to a meeting 5 blocks down the road. Things like that.
BK: So I bet if you’re too busy to clean your car, I bet your house is a mess!
PMS: No, no, I keep the house much cleaner. That way when the police scrub for fingerprints, they’ll find nothing.
BK: Maybe you should decide to clean it tomorrow. Because it’s really disgusting.
PMS: No, I think maybe you should clean it for me. Only I wouldn’t ask you to do that, because you’d probably get snot and boogers all over it and then I’d be in quite a predicament. What with the DNA and all…
BK: You’re really funny, Mrs. Sass. Even though you’re dirty.
So here I stand today, feathers completely unruffled, feelings completely unhurt. Here I stand. In my garage. With a Shop-Vac and some leather cleaner.
Not because she was right, or anything….