When giving instructions to girl-child, I was trying to say “If your brother wants a hot dog for lunch…”
It came out “If your brother wants a dog for Christmas.” Which would have been perfectly acceptable (except to my husband, who doesn’t want another dog, period), neither funny nor disturbing , if I hadn’t followed up with “poke some holes in it with a fork and stick it in the microwave for about a minute.”
And now Phoebe looks at me like this:
I can’t take it back. The damage is done, the trust is broken. She is now waiting for me to stick her with a fork, nuke her, and serve her up on a bun.With mustard. Choose your words carefully, friends..
***disclaimer – Phoebe is not cowed in this photo. She is contemplating how best to remove her squeak toy from my hand without a tedious tug of war. No Phoebes were intimidated in the creation of this blog.
Update: My daughter experienced the devastating power of words today. She may never be the same. Six little words nearly ruined her life. Just six little words. “You look just like your mother.” We’re helping her pick up the pieces.