I’m shopping with my not-quite-three-and-a-half-year-old daughter on Mother’s Day when she makes a new friend. He is “five and a half” and full of questions. My daughter has started calling me daddy, and this Mother’s Day we only celebrated her mother (I almost wrote her “other mother”…which shows that I’m slow at adjusting, too). So half-way through the day, I don’t want to ruin it by doing anything to make this more confusing for her. But her new friend has a question.
Boy: Are you her mom?
When your packer falls out of your pants onto the public bathroom floor.