By day, I'm a domestic violence prosecutor. By night, I read romance to restore my faith in love, relationships, and humanity in general.
As parents, we all have different things that push our buttons and make us crazy. My three-year-old's propensity to interrupt adult conversations is one of my big, red, parenting buttons. My wife is trying to tell me about her day? "Mumma? Mumma! MummaMummaMummaMumma!" Grammy is trying to explain how the baby got a big swollen goose egg on his head when he bumped into the coffee table? "Mumma! Mumma! MUMMMMMAAAA!" The adults at the dinner table are talking about how it is possible, in this day and age, to just lose an enormous passenger jet? "Look, Mumma! Mumma! Look at me, Mumma!" I'm on the phone with state police, taking an after-hours call about a fatal car wreck? "Mumma! Who's on the phone, Mumma? I wanna talk, too, Mumma! MUMMMAAAA!!!"
Enter Interrupting Chicken. Because as long as I am able to keep a sense of humor about this thing that makes me nucking futs, I will be able to resist the urge to abandon my son in a snowbank.