Movies Taken Too Far

Okay, so The Mommy ended up with a two-pound marshmallow thanks to the Internet. No, I don’t get it either, but there you go. When it showed up on our doorstep, she kept yelling “IT’S SO FLUFFY!” until I finally yelled back “ARE YOU GONNA DIE?!” “YES!” Indeed, we like our movies around here and Despicable Me is on the current kiddie rotation. And she kept saying “It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna DIE!” like you do.

Fast forward to today. We are doing a double birthday party since both The Daddy’s father and sister have birthdays around now. The Mommy decides, in lieu of a cake, to go ahead and let everyone dig into the marshmallow. For some reason, Thing 1 has gotten it into her head that anyone who eats the marshmallow will die. So when I take a big piece and stuff it in my mouth, she yells “Are you gonna die, Miss Adventure?!” Thinking she’s playing with the movie line, I say “YES!” and finish poking it into my gawp. (Big marshmallows are really sticky, FYI.)

Cue nuclear meltdown. “Don’t die, Miss Adventure! DON’T DIE!” I laugh, but then she starts sobbing. “DON’T DIE, MISS ADVENTURE! DON’T DIE!” Insert facepalm here. And much reassurances that I’m not going anywhere and she’s stuck with me right here, right now. What it took to get her down…let’s just say that with well-meaning but unhelpful help, I was ready to chug my vodka-and-ginger-ale, which given that I’m completely skint right now and hoarding what little liquor I have, should give you an idea.

Of course, Thing 3 loves to make things worse. “Wanna die, Mommy!” and sticks his handout for some marshmallow. “Gonna die!” he says triumphantly as he stuffs it into his mouth.

My life.