Wanna knuckle sandwich?

Wanna knuckle sandwich?

That's the question posed to me by the Lollygagger one fine Sunday afternoon. Wanna knuckle sandwich, mommy?

After having teased her with that same statement for the past few years it just seemed natural she would parrot the remark. Who knew she would actually punch me in the mouth!

Wanna knuckle sandwich mommy? WHAM!

I'm tellin' ya, I saw stars. As each star popped before my eyes I wrestled with the notion that I should give her a tasty little sandwich of her own. But, being the grown-up, I refrained. Besides, she already has a loose tooth and I wouldn't want to be held responsible for knocking it out.

Lucky for her, daddy was there and witnessed the whole thing. He got her out of my reach so fast, her head snapped back from the G-Force of it. He ever so calmly explained how much that hurt poor mommy and that she is never, never to dole out knuckle sandwiches to anyone ever again.

She gave a sincere apology and wandered off.

Lollygaggers daddy on the other hand, had his back to me for the better part of an hour. I suspect he was refraining from bursting out laughing.

I live with brats; good thing I love them anyway.