She drags herself from bed throwing on the closest pair of Juicy track pants that look semi clean and her Gucci shades. Slowly, she manages to make the drive to the school for the second time today. The first being a quick drop of birthday cupcakes for her 4 year old’s, The Perfectionist, party. Pulling up in the car pool, she smiles expectantly at the birthday boy. She braces herself for the interrogation of why she WASN’T at his class birthday party.
QM:Hi Honey! Did you like your cupcakes?
Perfectionist: No! They were yucky!
QM:Yucky? Every time we go to that store, you beg for the cupcake cake.
Perfectionist: Well, I didn’t like it. They were yucky yuck yucky.
QM: Well, maybe I just shouldn’t bring cupcakes to your school next year.
Perfectionist: Maybe you should and next time don’t bring the YUCKY ones.
QM: Did your friends like them?
QM: What’s on your shirt?
Perfectionist: Cupcake but I didn’t like it.
QM: Well, I’m sorry. <forcing bile and guilt down her throat>
~~~~~~~Half a Block Later, not even off Church Property~~~~~~~~
Perfectionist: Mommy, since I didn’t like my cupcake, can we go to the store and get me another one?
The child is a born hostage negotiator. Notice not one mention of “Mommy, where were you?”