It was an accident. She was holding it by the blue cover instead of the iPad. It detached itself, went stair surfing, and wound up clanking to the hard floor tile with an irrevocable thud.
I continued to eat hummus.
The damage is bad: a broken windshield, busted sound button (stuck on mute), and worse than all of the above: it won't turn back on. Mama's toy is broken.
And here's where I have to say it. I know it may sound mean or cruel or just plain wrong but I must say it to get it out in the universe... It serves me right.
Abby has been trying to get me to host a princess puppet show since 10am.
"Ok, after we pick up orange juice and eggs."
"Yes, but first let me make you lunch."
"Mmm-hmmm, let me just finish typing out this message and I will..."
"C'mon Kitty," Abby moans to her Pet Shop dog she keeps calling Kitty, "Mommy is talking to her computer...again."
I don't work from home. There is no real reason, other than severe refusal to engage willingly in PinyPons or a Madeline puzzle for the 298567204895620946 time, that I need to be on the computer.
But I am. And often, as evidenced by Abby's discourse with Kitty.
In my haste to distract myself with non-essentials, I am burning memories I could be creating in a make believe life of castles, princesses and sparkling tiaras.
I know Abby got the short stick with a mom like me. She really got screwed. I don't like princesses, dislike all things pink, and deplore tiaras. My dear daughter got her polar opposite for a care taker and fun maker.
She got the mom who loves playing soccer, adores throwing football, and delights in Bey Blade battles. She got the mom who grew up with all boys and spent her free time making bike ramps in the backyard with her big brother. She is stuck with the mom who doesn't wear lipstick.
A mom, if I'm being honest with myself, who deserves to get her damn iPad broken.
A mom who is going to pull out her dusty old 90s makeup - including fire engine red lipstick - to offer up a puppet show with castles and princesses and lots of
Maybe, if I'm good, she'll let me be the prince, or a gargoyle, or some fire-breathing dragon.
And we can use that broken iPad as kindle to my newly inspired flame.