By Diane Ako
Olivia is still at the age where I, her mommy, still am omnipotent. One morning as we prepared for school, she asked for cookies, homemade butter mochi, and Korean nori for the day's snack. I gave it to her.
As we were leaving the house, she remembered, "Can I have a White Rabbit candy, too?" I think the snack pack is already quite sweet and large so I said not today, but tomorrow.
As we were walking to class, she said, "You can just leave my backpack on the desk and not unzip it today." I rarely unzip it for her, unless there's something I need to give to the teacher, so I was immediately suspicious.
"What's in there you don't want me to see?" I asked.
She tried to evade me by simply repeating the request. I then repeated my question, followed by a threat to be angry if a confession was not immediately forthcoming.
She made that irresistible sad pouty face and looked down at her feet. I'm secretly a sucker for that, or maybe not so secret because she does it all the time and gets away with all kinds of stuff.
I opened the bag and saw one little White Rabbit candy sitting atop all the rest of the snacks. I looked at her with a frowny face. "Didn't Mommy tell you not today?"
Pouty face got poutier (and cuter.) "But... it's so tasty!" she begged.
"You need to listen to when Mommy tells you something, Sweetie. That is how to be a good girl." Side hug. Kiss atop head. "Plus, Mommy knows everything. I'll find out eventually."
I let her have her candy. I let myself have my moment of Mommy Knows All. This can't last much longer, so I'm going to enjoy all the times when I still have eyes in the back of my head and can read her mind.