My mother called me tonight. Having read my blog post from earlier today in which I accuse her of force-feeding me bread as a child thereby causing my breadphobia, she was determined to clear her good name. The conversation went like this:
Mom: I remember your sister chasing you around the house with bread, but that was probably because I told her to.
Me: Gee, thanks, Mom.
Mom: But I never made you choke on the bread. Okay, well, I'm pretty sure it was only that one time.
Me: Oh, is this like how you only went to the grocery store and left me home alone as an infant that one time, or how you locked me in a dark garage on purpose when I wouldn't go to sleep as a toddler that one time?
Mom: Oh, no, I did those things way more than once.
Explains so much, doesn't it?
Childhood traumatization aside, she's still the best mom ever and the funniest woman that I know. And she's one of those rare ladies who manage to make it all look effortless. I propose a "toast" to my mother; made with white bread, of course.