Monday, September 20, 2010

Queen Annika

I'm not sure when it happened... when my daughter became royalty, and me a mere servant...

"Mamma," I hear on the phone at 4 pm, "I am going to pick mushrooms with my class tomorrow, and I MUST have new rainboots."
"OK..." I say, "I can pick you up and take you to Mörby Centrum in a few minutes..."
"But Mamma," she replies, using my least favorite name, "I'm playing with Malla right now. Just buy me up a pair in size 36."
Right. Not a chance.

So the next morning comes, and she doesn't have any boots... only her Converse basketball shoes, which she doesn't want to get wet. So she finds last year's pair, and deems them to be adequate to the task.

1.30 pm. The phone rings.
"Mamma", I hear, with crying, "I'm at home... My feet really hurt and I CAN'T GET MY BOOTS OFF"

I hate to report that at that point I was laughing too hard to be able to respond appropriately. And my amusement at the situation was not appreciated...

1.35 pm. The phone rings.
"Mamma", Annika says, somewhat accusingly, "We don't need these boots anymore, do we?"
"Nah, not really," I reply. "They're a bit too girly to give to the boys."
"Good." she says, "because I cut them off with scissors."

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