When the good Lord was creating mothers, SHE/He was into HER/His sixth day of “overtime” when the angel appeared and said: “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.” And the Lord said: “Have you read the specs on this order?…”
“She has to be completely washable but not plastic; Have 180 moving parts… all replaceable; Run on black coffee and leftovers; Have a lap that disappears when she stands up; A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands.”
The angel shook her head slowly and said: “Six pairs of hands – no way.” “It’s not the hands that are causing me problems, said the Lord, it’s the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have.” That’s the standard model? Asked the angel.
The Lord nodded, “One pair that sees through closed doors so that when she asks, ‘What are you kids doing in there?’ she already knows. Another in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn’t but what she has to know. Then, of course, the ones here in front that can look at a child when he messes up and says, ‘I understand and I love you’ without so much as uttering a word.”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching His sleeve gently, “come to bed.”
“I can’t said the Lord, I’m so close to creating something so close to Myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick, can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger, and can get a 9-year old to stand under a shower.”
The angel circled the model of a mother very closely. “It’s too soft,” she said. “But tough,” said the Lord excitedly. “You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure.”
“Can it think?” asked the angel. “Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise,” said the Creator.
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. “There’s a leak,” she said. “I told you you were trying to put too much into this model.”
“That’s not a leak,” said the Lord. “It’s a tear.”
“What’s it for?” asked the angel. The Lord replied, “It’s for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride.”
“You’re a genius,” said the Angel. The Lord looked somber, “I didn’t put it there…”
by Erma Bombeck
