Who Is My Mother?

Daddy was a very mild-mannered gentleman... he was never the type to yell, shout, etc. His style was reasoning.

Except once.

I was 6, it was one of those awful early morning breakfasts that we had at 5 AM.... I was panicked because I couldn't find my library book, Dr. Suess' Are You My Mother from school due that day.

I went to Mom....where is my book? where is my book? She was in the middle of scrambling eggs (they were close to dust as they would tend to get over-cooked) and doing toast. Children were crying all over the house knowing they had to eat those eggs.

"WHERE IS MY LIBRARY BOOK??????"

Daddy came over, calmly patted me on the shoulder and said "Sport, which book are you looking for? I will help you find it."

I turned to him and said Are You My Mother?

His face immediately turned beet red.....he picked me up by my shirt collar and raised me off the floor so that we were nose-to-nose.

"Say that again?"

Mother came running over screaming "Honey, It's the name of the book, it's the name of the book....."

As I recall we ended up paying late dues for the book.