The Bully’s Mother

I did something terrible. Unforgivable. Abusive.

I denied the Little Monster’s request to put a pack of Gummy Bears in his home lunch.

That we even had Gummy Bears in the house was a fluke of nature. The fluke of nature being the Man I Married himself, who thought he was going the extra mile by picking up juice packs while at the store buying something useful like a gallon jug of pickled jalapenos. But somehow he confused juice packs with Gummy Bears. I can understand his confusion at the feminine products aisle, where even I end up mistakenly bringing home Extra Longs (which make me feel like I’m atop a gondola), or, worse, Deodorant (which is like advertising to the world This Woman Has Her Period, either that or she has a scented candle in her pants).