We're always telling the kids to share. Well, I am.
It's nice to share. Share your toys. Share your feelings. Share your food (oh - not the allergens though). Share your germs. Donate.
On the whole, I agree.
And I do.
Some days I. don't. want. to. share.
Fist curl, foot stomp, pout.
Sometimes I want to have my own head space all to myself.
My shower all to myself.
My breakfast, lunch or dinner all to myself.
My phone conversation (and phone) all to myself.
My toilet, my sneaky chocolate I thought you didn't know about, my newspaper or inappropriately violent book, my frustration, my driving music, my handbag, my tic tacs, my tampons, my laptop... all. to. my. self.
Sometimes I just don't want to hear that sweet little voice pipe up
"Me have some?"
"Dat for me?"
"Who you talking?"
"My turn, Mum?"
Sometimes I just don't want to share.
Hang head. Point to forehead. Stamp 'bad mother' here.
Look, I just really, really like lollies. And I'm sick of eating them like a fugitive.