I WANT MY MOMMY

Sometimes it is simply wonderful to be an adult.

You can choose to eat junk food for an entire evening, and only regret it when your bloated stomach in the morning feels like throwing up.

You can stay up late watching a movie on television, and no one reminds you that tomorrow is a school day and you really ought to be asleep.

You can make decisions based on your own good judgement as the situation warrants.


Tonight I don't want to be that adult.

I want someone to give me some medicine that will make my throat and my tummy feel all better, put me in my pajamas and put me to bed with Vicks vapor rub or a steamer, and come in the middle of the night to feel my forehead.


I'm surprised I didn't grown up to be a hypochondriac, because when I was little, the only time I seemed to get warm, positive feedback from my mother was when I was sick. She had tons of medicines (samples pilfered from the physician she worked for), and always seems very certain that whatever she gave me would take the pain away.

And tonight I feel feverish and tired and achy all over.

I'd like a mom, please.