What? You mean You don't want me to get out?

True story. Mim clamped his gums on the surgeon’s finger as he was emerging from my womb. I knew at when the doctor said “Ow!” I was in trouble.

When Mim was a toddler, we’d put Fish on the bus and then head to the grocery store just about every Wednesday morning.

He’s always been a sociable child (I have no idea where he gets this from). We started calling him The Mayor because he would (and still does) engage anyone in conversation. Early on a weekday morning, my shopping companions were other mothers with young kids and what Dr. Fishman one of my college professors referred to as LOLITS, Little Old Ladies In Tennis Shoes.

As we made our way through the store, he’d wave and say “Hi.” “Hi, I Mim.” “Hi!”. Most people would smile and wave back or at least acknowledge him in some way. Lord help the poor LOLIT so busy trying to calculate the unit price of a box of oatmeal that she didn’t hear The Mayor’s ovations. He’d be persistent. “HI!”, “I MIM!!”, and finally “HEY! I TALKIN’ YOU.” wouldn’t you know it the poor LOLIT would hear him THAT time. With blonde hair and blue eyes that match mine, it’s not like I could say “Sorry, I’m just the nanny.” Talk about wanting to crawl under a rock!

That one keeps me on my toes I tell ya!

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