The Chucklehead Speaks

Years ago, moms were a sacred group of people with high tolerance. Looking back in
Biblical history, Mary was pregnant when she and Joseph came to Bethlehem for three days
of Grateful Dead concerts. Her water broke and they scrambled to find a room but
everything was sold out. Thankfully they found an empty shed where she gave birth to a
baby boy. Mary could have been mad, yelled, screamed and made a scene but she didn’t.
Her revenge was Joseph missing the shows. Her first words to him after the baby was born
were, “Next time, hotels.com.”
In my office, I work with mothers. I tend to leave a trail of candy wrappers all over the
place. Chocolate is my thing and my brain goes wonky at the sight. Recently, I was schooled
that if I keep leaving a mess, I’m going to find Kit-Kats in places where there is an exit only
sign. Where is their tolerance? Knowing their kids and spouses, they probably used it all up.
Last year for Mother’s Day, my brother bought our mom a new car. I get her a parrot
because she lives alone and I thought it would be nice for her to have someone to talk to.
I called my mom to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and she told me she was thankful for
our generosity.
However, she couldn’t use the car because her vision is failing and she is afraid to drive. I’ve
always been her favorite and she told me I did fine job choosing a gift. The chicken was
delicious.