MAMA, DON'T PUSH ME!!!

Watering The Baby Roses

As I'm getting dressed this morning, she comes into my room rubbing her belly and making a pained face.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Beauty?" I ask while quickly applying my mascara. [Yes, we're running late -- AGAIN!]

"Mama, don't push me," she says.

[WHA?!@#$%] I spin around and smear my new Ulta Waterproof Blacker Than Black across my right temple.

"Push you?" I ask incredulously. "When did I push you?"

"Just don't push me anymore," she says a little more resolutely while rubbing her protruding belly, having just stuffed herself full to the brim with grapes and a whole banana in under 15 minutes.

"Saia, I don't push you, baby," I explain. "Do I?" [fumbling unsuccessfully through my mental rolodex trying to figure out to what she could be mistakenly referring]

"Yes, Mama, you do," she says. And says nothing more. And I'm sitting there - aghast - thinking Oh my god, how many people has she told this to? What the hell is she talking about? And is DFS gonna be waiting for me at her school this morning?

"When, baby? When has Mama pushed you? Do you remember?" I gently prod, not wanting to scare her into silence.

"All the time," she begins, and my jaw drops. "When you put me in my carseat and you buckle the buckle on the seatbelt you always push my belly down so you can make it tighter because if we have an accident I might fly out the window but it's not a wee-wee accident it's a different kind of accident where one car hits another car but not with their hands because cars don't have hands so they don't go in timeout..."

[and I'm just staring at her in disbelief, and, of course, wondering where the hell this is going]

"And?" I a little too impatiently prompt.

"...AND," she continues in a much louder voice because she hates hates hates to be interrupted, "and my belly is sooooooo full today, if you push me I'll throw up."