Workaholic Mama

This evening, my hilarious offspring took turns doing impressions of us. Papa Bear was serious and gruff, although the darlings collapsed in giggles as they tried to pull it off. As for me, they put on a high, shrill voice and a poncy air, saying.

“I’m Mama and I work all the time and say there’s never time for stories ever again and we never go for walks because I’m always working, and I’m going to get fat-fat-fat because I just work and make delicious chocolate and make us all eat it all the time.”

It’s Saturday. We’ve had a frenetic dash to the Market, followed by a high-speed weekly shop, magicking grocery money out of thin air. After that, the day has consisted of nothing but work and meal preparation, while the girls played.

Perhaps they have a point.

Walking in Mama's shoes
Walking in Mama’s shoes

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