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I played coed slow pitch softball well into my forties. I wanted to play on a team with each of my kids. When my son turned 16, and could play on the team he started calling me Karen. He discovered that calling out “Mom” caused every woman in the dugout to turn and look at him. Even a few in the bleachers did. After softball, he continued to call me Karen. I rather like it. People have asked me over the years if it bothers me. Why should it? He knows I’m his Mom and I certainly know I’m his Mom. He’s 50 years old, for jack’s sake! He is a wonderful person and a loving son. He can call me Karen whenever he wants to. He still sometimes calls me Mom, though. Your daughter will be an excellent police detective.

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founding

You're making me want to be a parent again! (Almost.) Okay, on second thought, I'll settle for living vicariously through you.

Meantime, consider a one-act stage play with this kind of dialogue. It's charming.

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Mar 7, 2023·edited Mar 8, 2023

Excellent. I mixed mashed prunes with cream cheese and put on half a bagel to help my toddler daughter through a bout of constipation. She threw the bagel off her plate. I ate it. Pruney.

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I love this.

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