Snack Time for Mom
I’m eating a stale granola bar. Not because I want to but because someone opened it, ate a single bite and left it sitting open in the fridge for a week. It’s pretty apparent at this point that no one else is going to eat it. I can’t just throw it out, it’s perfectly good food – or so my mom always told me. And though my mom always told me that as she forced me to eat icky things, I don't have the energy to hunt down the offender and force them to consume this stale granola bar for their snack.
So, I’m eating it and it’s kind of chewy instead of crunchy, and weirdly sweeter than they taste when they’re fresh, and I’m not really enjoying my snack, but someone’s got to eat it.
I don’t know why, but today this stale granola bar I’m eating sums up the reality of being mom.
So, I’m eating it and it’s kind of chewy instead of crunchy, and weirdly sweeter than they taste when they’re fresh, and I’m not really enjoying my snack, but someone’s got to eat it.
I don’t know why, but today this stale granola bar I’m eating sums up the reality of being mom.