Why I’m a Mean Mama

I’m a mean Mama. I’m a really mean Mama.

Either that of Baby is REALLY gullible.

Maybe it’s a combination of the two.

Why am I so mean? Why is Baby so gullible?

I’m going to blame my Bubba. When I was growing up in a double-wide mobile home my Bubba told me that my parents were going to put a bookshelf or closet where the door to my bedroom was. When I asked how I was supposed to get in and out of my room he replied, “Through the window.” I believed him. I sobbed. My parents were going to make me climb in and out of my bedroom through a window! I was a teenager. I should have known better. They still get me every now and again. I’m a bit gullible. I have since learned to play the game.

So, here we are in Tennessee and I’ve been a bit bored Abigail was asking about her cat, Hazel.

Hazel is an outside cat. She is an idiot lives on our back porch and back yard. When we first brought Hazel to this house she would disappear during the day to explore the neighborhood. I would see her in the morning when I would feed her; she would be gone exploring when the kids got home from school. After a week of this Abigail was getting worried. She wanted to be sure Hazel was okay.

So, one day I saw this cat eating at Hazel’s dish …

… and I called, “Baby, come quick! Hazel’s outside eating!”

Baby came running, saw this other cat and burst into tears!

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My cat got all fat and fuzzy!”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“I don’t want my cat to get all fat and fuzzy!”

Never in a million years did I think she would believe this cat…

… was this cat.

It took me a bit to convince her that I was teasing. I got lucky and Hazel decided to stop by her own porch again right at that moment.

“Why did you do that, Mama? Did you just want to make me cry!”

Yes. I’m a mean, mean Mama. Gimme a break!

Is gullible hereditary?

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