Year 4, Day 157

Most of today’s morning commute was conducted in silence following a brief altercation in which Miles requested juice immediately and I told him his request would be impossible to fulfill. Several minutes of silent grievance (his, not mine) later, he finally spoke up again.

“Mommy is a good mommy,” he said.

“She is,” I agreed.

“And you a bad daddy.”

I slowly craned my neck to give him the stink eye. If he was kidding, he didn’t let on.

“I need to go find a new daddy,” he said. “At Target.”

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