I wish I had a mommy robot. Or a clone of myself. Or both. A few months ago, we were heading home from Nana’s house and were coming back into town and Mo asked me if I was broken down on the side of the road. I started laughing and said, “No, we are still driving.”
The following occurred between 5:30 and 6:30 p.m.
Mo: “Mommy, are we broken down on the side of the road?”
Me: “No, we are still driving. We are okay.”
Mo: “Are you sure mommy? I could call a tow truck.”
In the rearview mirror, I see Mo pretend to dial a phone.
Mo: “Yes, mister, we need a tow truck. We are in the sand.”
Mo: “We will be here. Goodbye.”
The kids continue talking amongst themselves.
All of a sudden, Mo yells, “Oh no! The tow truck can’t get us out!”
Mo: “Mommy, the tow truck can’t get us out of the sand! We will have to call the Mommy Robot!”
Me: “The mommy robot?”
Mo pretends to dial the phone again.
Mo: “Mommy Robot, we need help. We are off on the side of the road stuck in the sand.”
Mo: “Okay, see you then. Bring a big rope. Goodbye.”
We drove a long a few more minutes and Mo yells, “There it is! The Mommy Robot! We are saved.”
Mo: “Pull Mommy Robot! Pull”
Mo: “Mommy, aren’t you glad the Mommy Robot saved us from the sand?”
Me: “Yes, baby.”
Mo: “Maybe the Mommy Robot can come live with us.”
Me: “Maybe so. ”
In my head, I am thinking: I wonder if she cleans.