The Meanest Mother in the World
By Bobbie Pingaro.
I have the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids eat candy for breakfast, I have to have cereal, eggs, or toast. When other kids have Cokes and chips for lunch, I have to have a high-protein sandwich. As you might guess, my dinner is different from theirs too. But at least Iam not alone in my suffering. My brother has the same mean mother as I do.
My mother insists on knowing where we are at all times. Youíd think we were on a chain gang. She has to know who our friends are and what we are doing. If we say weíll be gone for an hour, she insists that it is not an hour and five minutes. We canít sleep till noon like our friends. In fact, my mother is so mean that she breaks child labor laws by making us work. We have to wash dishes and make beds, learn to cook and do all sorts of exhausting jobs. I believe she lies awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us. She always insists on our telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, even if it kills us -- and sometimes it nearly does.
Now that we are teenagers our lives are becoming even more unbearable. There is none of this tooting of the car horn for us to come running. She embarrasses us to no end by making our friends come to the door to get us, and she says she will insist on the same behavior from our dates one day. And speaking of dating -- while our friends are dating by 13 or 14, my mean mother has refused to let us start dating until we are least 17. Seventeen, that is! And we can only go to a church or school function, then straight home.
As you can easily see, my mother is a complete failure. None of us has ever been arrested or sent to juvenile court. We havenít experimented with drugs or sex. We donít hang around the shops with the other kids in the neighborhood who have nothing to do, and we have never thought of running away from home. And who do we have to blame? Thatís right. Our mean mother. She is literally forcing us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.
It is with this background that I look forward one day to being a mother. Then, when my children call me mean, I will stand a littler taller and be filled with pride. You see, I can thank God for the meanest mother in the whole world, and I want to be just like her.
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Jesus loves me, this I know . . .