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Just because you’re a Mo, don’t be a MoFo

Today, my sister Mo told me that I was a bad Aunt and Godmother. These were detailed to me when I went to lunch with her and some of our friends today.

Here are my sins:

*I do not call her home and specifically ask her if she needs a babysitter.

*When she informed me this afternoon that she needs a babysitter tomorrow night (yes, a whopping 24 hours in advance!), I told her that we have made plans.

*My husband is tall.

*I purchased a Disney video for Abby and it made her cry.

*I did not offer to pay for her lunch.

*I purchased a Scoobie video for Abby and it scared her.

In my defense, I purchased a non-scary Scoobie-Doo video for Abby, one that was specifically made for younger children and had nice monsters in it, not scary “I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you damn kids” type villians. I watched it along with Abby and she did not get scared nor cry. No glowing swamp monsters. No ghosts that turn out to be a projection. It even had Scrappy Doo in it. Mo told me that Abby loved that video.

No, someone else had actually purchased the Scoobie Doo video that was a scary Scoobie video. But I was blamed for it. And when the mistake was uncovered, she did not apologize for her wrongful accusation. She just moved on to the next of my transgressions.

Apparently, this all makes me a very bad aunt and godmother. Apparently, I should be previewing every spontaneous gift I purchase for the child, I should drop my life whenever Mo decides that she needs a babysitter, and I should have married Ronald McDonald, at least until Abby is taller.

In retrospect, MY aunt starves her children and used to drive away in her car, making me walk behind it for several miles. She made me do exercise before she would allow me to eat. She constantly called me horrible nicknames and told me that carraway seeds were minnows. MY Godmother wouldn’t know me if she walked by me on the street. I don’t think I’ve even seen my Godmother nor my Godfather since I was a wee little child.

I buy the child Disney movies.

I’m going to hell, apparently.

The thing that makes me feel a little better was that her friend jumped to my defense, stating “Was she supposed to preview every movie before she gives it to her?”. The other one wisely stayed silent, giving me understanding smiles and rolling his eyes at Mo.

Maybe now you can see why my sister’s pseudonym was derrived from “MoFo”.

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