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Not A Happy Meal

| Related | January 30, 2014

(I am about 13 years old and the oldest of five children. My mother has just picked two of my siblings and me up from swim practice. My two youngest siblings (around ages five and three) are in the back seat, whining that they want to go to a popular fast food restaurant for dinner. I know for a fact that my mother already has dinner made. I am sitting in the front seat, next to my mother.)

Sister: “I want to go to [Fast Food Restaurant]!”

Me: “We’re going somewhere else for dinner.”

Sister: *getting excited* “Really? Where?”

Me: “McMommy’s.”

(My other siblings get it immediately and groan. I assume that the two youngest will get the joke, but they don’t. They think we’re going to a restaurant. I glance at my mother, but she stays silent, staring straight ahead at the road.)

Sister: “Do they have toys there?”

Me: “Yup. All your favorites.”

(I can hardly contain my laughter. We enter our neighborhood and I am amazed that they still haven’t caught on, instead talking excitedly about what kid’s meal toys they hope the restaurant has. I glance at my mother again. Still no discernible reaction. My other siblings play along with the joke, talking up all the toys that will be there. We pull into our own driveway and everyone piles out. The two youngest are a little confused as to why we came home first, but are still excited to go to ‘McMommy’s.’)

Me: *as we all enter the house* “Here we are! McMommy’s!”

(The youngest kids finally figured it out. My little sister didn’t speak to me for two days and, despite the fact that my mother could have stopped it at any time, still believes I was being cruel to her. She vowed to do it to my children one day. Ironically, when she did… they figured it out right away!)

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