My Mom Loves Me. Sort Of.

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A woman walked up to my Mom the other day, she told me. "I don't know if you remember me, Mrs. Nemecek," this woman said to my Mom. "I used to teach your son, Frank, in Sunday school."

"I'm not sure how to take that," my Mom reportedly replied.

"Why is that?"

"Well, if you remember my son from having him in your classroom one day a week more than thirty years ago, that can only mean one of two things: either he was a very helpful and exceptionally well-behaved student or he was a serious pain in your butt."

"And, as his mother," my Mom continued, "I think we can rule out the first option."

Ah - a mother's love.

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