The Child is in Payback Mode, or, Em's Mama has Mad Ninja Warrior Skills

The child is now a little bit fearful of her food. Well, I should write that a different way. The child is a little bit fearful that her food will disappear, because her mother's mad ninja warrior skills may make her food--most notably, the DESSERT--disappear.

We had the best gut-busting laugh yesterday, and since school has let out and I've become a full-time house sitting, house cleaning, pick up after every. little. thing. Mom, I haven't really had a good laugh. Nothing has been laugh worthy. Have you seen the messes a family of three can produce? Do you know how much these people EAT? I feared that my sense of humor was being held captive with the dust bunnies under the bed (a place in which I have NOT cleaned. Yet). However, I think my sense of humor must be somewhere else, because I have not received a ransom note.

Cents uv funni
Bak for 1 meelyun dolars
Or else!

I digress, as usual. And obviously the dust bunnies need an English teacher.

During the holiday, we are all home, enjoying each other's company and me especially enjoying everyone's messes, and we eat together at the table. A lost art, I know. What do you say to each other after eating with one another each and every single stupid day? That's where the ninja skills come in and a little covert ACTION. Who needs this meal to be FUN? *I* do.

The child and her father are deep in a conversation and for dessert, the child opted to have a piece of dark chocolate. She isn't eating it, and I'm not sure why it takes her so long to get it into her mouth, but she does like to enjoy her desserts. She does not have her eye on the piece, nor does she have her hand on it. The dark chocolate is free. Whatever she is talking about with The Dad is so engrossing, but, like usual, I am not all that engrossed. One cannot be that engrossed and still be a dun dun dun! Ninja!

I put my hand out onto the table just to gauge her peripheral vision. (Yes, I actually did think that).

I took my chance. It was recon time for mission "Choc Attack."

Did you see that swipe? No? Neither did the child. I just simply moved it to my napkin.

I was totally ninja.

When the child broke her conversation with her dad, she looked at where her dessert should be, and her expression was of the most puzzled look I had not seen on her face since the potty training days.

Did I eat it already? I know I just had it! Where did it GO??

All were the thoughts I knew that ran through her little head all at once. Perhaps the chocolate was with my sense of humor with the dust bunnies. The ante was going up!

Cents uv funni & slimy peece of chokolut
Bak for 5 meelyun dolars
Or else!

When the child realized that I had it AND that I had been sneaky enough to get past her 11-year-old super-duper triple trained x-ray vision, and seeing the actual realization that her mother had some Skillz (yes, with a "z," because that's how I am rollin' this morning), the moment was priceless. I tried to hide the tears that rolled down my face, but they felt so good coming up from the dark pits of my belly.

The child may never trust me again where her dessert is concerned, and the only thing I have to say about that is--who needs dessert, anyway? Apparently she does, and I can already see the little cogs in her summer break head creaking. The child is in payback mode, so I have to watch my back.

I need another mission.

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