Yesterday, I threw on a thin, fitted t-shirt and my running pants (the usual mom uniform) to "get my clean on" and run a couple of errands. I was hunched over my bathroom sink brushing my teeth when I heard Noelle walk up behind me. She stood there for a moment and then in all seriousness asked me, "Mommy, are you a robot?"
Of course, I immediately said yes.
I had no idea why that thought would cross her mind, but I had to let it play out for a few moments and try to figure it out.
I kept a straight face (as straight as you can while brushing your teeth with a Sonicare) while Noelle began to interrogate me.
"Mommy, are you really a robot?"
"Mommy, you're a robot?"
"Are you lying?"
I didn't answer that one, I just stared blankly at her in amazement that I was actually having this conversation in my lifetime.
After finishing my toothbrushing, I walked out of the bathroom and saw that there were tears welling-up in her eyes.
Oops. Mama's gone too far.
"Oh honey, I'm not a robot. What made you think that?"
Apparently, my thin t-shirt along with me bending over the sink allowed the little metal pieces on my bra-strap to be outlined under the back of my shirt and gave the appearance of a JET-PACK in the mind of an 8.5 year old. A sweet, innocent 8.5 year old that trusts her mommy and who may never believe her mommy ever, ever again and who made it very clear that robot mom's are not okay.
I think a jet-pack would make errands and cleaning way cooler.