Moms Do Not Know Best

For some reason when I was a wee lass, I never had the heart to tell my mom if I didn’t like something she liked or an idea she had.

This served only to hurt me.

For instance…I was in French club in high school and it was time for our Christmas party, and we were all supposed to bring a white elephant gift.

My mom’s idea was to give these homemade notepad things we had…something like this….but a box full of them.

Are you feeling my hurt?

I knew in my heart, soul, fiber, blood, and plasma that this was a bad idea.

But I wrapped up that crap and brought it. Bless my heart.

Mine was the last gift to be opened that night, and I’ll never forget the look of horror on that girl’s face.

Thanks, Mom.

You secured my status of “not popular” in cement that day.

Bless your effin’ heart.