I was soaring in my short lived spurt of energy in this long, draining pregnancy.

So I wanted to make the most of it and finally go visit my Muslim friend from Bangladesh who hadn’t seen my face since January (because I’ve been barely eeking out an existence). We baked her, and her disabled son, a loaf of bread and I was planning on delivering it that evening.

I tried to recruit visiting partners.

Me: “Benjamin, do you want to go with me to Amari’s house to give her the bread you helped me make?”

Benjamin “Who Amari ?”

Trinity: “Remember, Benjamin, you got to watch TV while Mommy talked to her last time?” (in her best prodding, convincing voice)

Benjamin: “I not know who Amari is….”

Me: “Remember, Benjamin?  She gave you a donut last time we went there?”

Benjamin: “OH, YESSS!!! I want to go to Amari  house!!”

Me: “Well, Benjamin, she might not have donuts this time…”

Benjamin: “Dang it*.”       “I not want to go to Amari house”

 

*After I finished laughing, I asked him where he learned to say “dang it” and he tells me,

“YOU. You say it when sumfin not workin”

There we go, my little, exposing mirror…. Oops.