Real people

Today on the way to open gym at a local gymnastics place, The Toddler was explaining to me from his car seat that only real people ride in flatbed trucks and only real people live in houses.

“You not ride in flatbed truck, only real people.”

“Only real people? Am I not a real people?”

“No, you Mommy. You not ride in flatbed trucks. Only real people.”

So, confirmation of my persistent suspicion that parenthood has stripped me of my identity.

I thought I was making progress because I tweezed my eyebrows this weekend for the first time since November, but nope. I look forward to returning to my state as a real person in the eventual future.