My mom and I are down at my grandmother’s house this evening. Grandmom has pneumonia, so we brought groceries for her and a Christmas wreath for the front of the house.
We’ve been here for about three hours and I’ve already heard myself referred to as “the Brat,” nearly electrocuted myself trying to plug an old lamp into an older extension cord, had a ring of prickly greenery and twine draped around my neck, and been left behind in the damp basement despite shouting, “don’t leave me down here!” repeatedly. I shrieked when my mom flicked the lights off and she positively cackled.
And then she turned to her mother and said something along the lines of “I brought you this one stalk of broccoli and I want you to steam it and I want you to eat it. I want you to eat it TONIGHT.” She brandished a produce bag. My grandmother pledged obedience.
I really can’t wait to have a daughter of my own.
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