My Baby is Mormon

I think I must have murdered someone in my past life. Perhaps, I was Jack the Ripper and all those hookers are coming back to me for their sweet revenge, in the form of my blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby.


Normally, my daughter is an angel. She eats everything we give her. She’s really great at parties and can converse all subjects dealing with Elmo and barnyard animals. But one day, she woke up, remembered she was a toddler and now, mealtime makes me impale myself on a cross.

Before, mealtimes were easy. We’d discuss the latest stock market news and poll numbers, while munching our healthy meals of peanut butter and jelly. Now, when I sit her in her booster seat she screams, “BUTTER! BUTTER!” Then, when I give her the sandwich, she pushes it away, “NO BUTTER! BROCOLLI!” And yes, I was a fool, I did offer her broccoli. What did that do? It made her sob like I’d just told her Elmo had died in a car accident with Shaun the Sheep and all the stickers in the world.

Once, on that rare occasion, when she managed to put away enough bites of her lunch, that giving her a dessert didn’t automatically violate those nebulous rules of good motherhood, I offered her some Pocky. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m pretty sure Pocky is Japanese for baby cocaine. They’re little cookie sticks covered in who knows what, probably poison, I don’t know, it’s delicious.

I handed her four sticks of Pocky and kept the final three for myself. My daughter reached over and grabbed one of my sticks and shoved it in her mouth. Like the mature adult I am, I took one of hers and shoved it in my mouth. “MOAR POCKY!! MOAR POCKY!!” She started sobbing.

Her body was heaving. “MOAR POCKY!” She hiccupped, “MOAR MOAR POCKY!”

I blinked. “You have three sticks of Pocky on the table.”

“NO!” She shouted, “MOAR POCKY!”

“Are you Mormon? Are you required to stockpile Pocky for the apocalypse?”

“POCKY!” She reached out to me. “POCKY!”

I munched down the rest of my Pocky and left her alone. Six minutes later, she calmed down enough to eat her remaining Pocky.  I don’t know how she’s going to explain that to her Bishop.


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