A mother and child are at the library. Perhaps it was last week. Perhaps I was the mother and perhaps my child was, well, the child.
Mother: [heaving a pile of books onto the librarian's counter while her child twirls recklessly into other patrons] Okay, now it's time to go upstairs and find mommy a book.
Child: Okay...okay...okay...
They ascend the stairs.
Mother: Look, a Sophie Kinsella book I haven't read. Mommy loves pink covers. Pink covers mean that the only real conflict will surround an unpaid Visa bill or an aloof boyfriend. Since you were born, Mommy can only handle books with pink covers. Mommy doesn't like books with sad things...
Child: [pulling a thousand page historical novel off the shelf] Oh, Mommy. This is just what you've been looking for. This is just what you need.
Mother: Thank you sweetie, but Mommy's happy with her pink book. That book looks a little long for me right now.
Child: rolling eyes You give up too easy, Mommy.
Mother: sighs
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