In a moment of great gravity and import this afternoon, I asked MJ if she would like a little brother or sister. It’s a bit of a moot point–I am, after all, about to turn 45–but it’s the kind of thing a mother of an only child does. Mostly to torture herself.
MJ responded by throwing herself on top of the family dog. Nestling into the poor mutt’s stomach, she crowed “Mina’s my sister.”
I smiled patiently, then tried again. “OK, but other than Mina? Wouldn’t you like another little child in the house?
Myra-Jean got up and walked out of the room. As she disappeared over the threshold she threw over her shoulder, “Mina’s my sister.”
“I take it that’s a no?” I called after her.
“Yup!” she cried.
So much for that. My only question: if Mina really is her sister, why does she keep attacking her with blue paint?
Maybe that’s exactly why.
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