Basically, she couldn't take me anywhere. By that I mean, she couldn't take me anywhere without risking having to remove me kicking and screaming. As much as I'd love to tell you that it was all toddler hysteria, it wasn't. I actually remember some of the fits I threw, so I couldn't have been that young. One involved telling her I hated her in the middle of JC Penney.
I know! TERRIBLE!
My mother always told me my antics would come back to me. By the time I had babies, though, the advent of online shopping had me fairly confident that if the time ever came when MB should need physical restraint in the toy aisle at Target, her box of coal could come just as handily from an online merchant such as Amazon.
I can do damage on Amazon.
As it turns out, I underestimated my mother's determination to see me suffer for the tantrums of my youth. In fact, her revenge plot quietly began last time I was home to visit. See, she gave Mary Bullock a gift-- a gift which re-appeared from the bottom of the toy bin sometime last week and became her new favorite thing.
Don't be fooled. It looks like a harmless recorder, but it is a human torture device. Especially when she wants to get the band together at 6:30am.
Well done, Mama. You played the long game, and you won.
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