My five year old came up to me today. Wrapping his little arms around my ample, squishy waist he looked up at me and said in the sweetest voice, “I love you cold unfeeling robot arm”.
It took me a minute of crushing self doubt before I realized he was just spouting, yet ANOTHER, Invader Zim quote.
So I guess it’s a “good” thing to be a “cold unfeeling robot arm”? High praise indeed. For a minute there though I suddenly had flash backs to abnormal psych class, Harry Harlow and sad little monkeys. Yes this is how neurotic I am about being a mom. I sometimes feel like everyone else out there got the memo and instruction booklets on this parenting crap when I was hung over and still in bed. How about you?