The words left Mo's lips. There's no turning back. She's irrevocably a mom.
"Be careful. I don't want her to poke an eye out."
I had lazily just handed Hope an impromptu toy: A used grape Popsicle stick, straight from my mouth. She dug it. Mo didn't.
It was a genuine Uh-Oh-She-Sounds-Just-Like-My-Mom moment. In no time flat, I'm sure, Mo is gonna break out the tried and true: "I don't care if everyone else is doing it. I'm only saying this because I care about you. Put on a sweater. Waste not, want not. And look at me when I'm talking to you."