lousy mom

Time: 8am, Sunday morning.

Mommy, can I have some candy?
No, son. No candy for breakfast.
Mommy, can you reach my Easter basket?
No, Andy. No candy.

30 seconds elapse.

Mommy, can you reach my Easter basket?
[I say nothing.]
Mommy, I want my Easter basket!
No, Andy! No candy in the early morning when you haven't even touched those nice fresh grapes I washed for you.

Mommy.......I want M&Ms! [he climbs up my body in an attempt to reach his Easter basket on the shelf above me]

No! Do you want some pancakes?
I don't want any pancakes! I want my Easter candy can I please have it Mommy?
No, son. Can I make you some breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs? Toast?
Mommy can you reach my Easter basket?
No, son. I can't. I'm sorry.
Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.......
Fine! Here's your damn candy! Eat it! I don't care. Eat it. Eat chocolate for breakfast.

I hand him his Easter basket and go upstairs to take a Mucinex and pour myself a second cup of coffee. Then I return to the couch, feeling sick as a dog and incredibly stuffy.

Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......can I have some pancakes?

No son. Eat your candy.