It was a hot Saturday afternoon with the sun doing a harsh number on my skin and my mind trying to seek refuge in something cold or sweet. It was at this junction of decision that the smell of pizza gently filtered into my nose. “Hmmn, that pizza smells so good; can we stop and have a slice I asked?” My fourteen year old son looked at me in disbelief. “Control mommy, control” he whispered in my ears. Although he was right on the money with the emphasis he placed on the word “control”, I bullied him into immediate silence by letting him know that “this hungry mom is an angry mom that can change her mind about taking him shopping.”
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Saturday, February 4
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