Daelyn was acting up this morning at the breakfast table.
"Go to your room, son," I said, sternly. He didn't move.
"Go to your room - now!" (more menacingly)
Finally, he got up from the table and began to walk slowly out of the kitchen.
"GO!" I spoke rather loudly.
Suddenly, Daelyn turned around, squinted his eyes at me, and said,
"You're NOT MY MOTHER!" He turned his back and stomped out of the room.
"I wonder who he thinks his mother is?" Deanna asked, innocently.
No one. He was a test tube baby. Or perhaps he sprung fully grown out of his father's head. In armor. With a spear.
No wonder labor was so hard.
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