John (who came into my bathroom while I was drying my hair): Mom! Mom! The tv went to all blue! You need to fix it!
Me: Because I am SuperMom and I can fix anything, right?
John: No.
Me (not letting this go): Come on, say, it. Say, ‘you’re supermom!’
John: You’re not supermom. It’s ‘superDOG’, Mom.
Me (feeling a bit disgruntled at the lack of respect my son is showing me): But I’m the superMOM, right?
John: Nope.
Thanks a lot, kid. See if I drive your carpool on the fieldtrip today.
—-
Oh ha ha. Good one!
Oh that’s sad. I wouldn’t have fixed it. I’m eleven though.