“Daddy M-Dawg,” I whined, using my totally cool nickname for Daddy Mohinder. “I really want a blog account!! All the other kids have them. Come on…”
“Molly, you would simply be much too vulnerable frolicking in cyber space with undesignated peoples,” rambled Daddy Mohinder. “It is simply much too hazardous. I am sorry, Molly.”
I can never figure out what he’s saying. I grabbed a thesaurus and it took me a couple of minutes, but I finally realized that he had said no. So I snuck to the nearest Krispy Kreme and bought a dozen warm donuts. With my secret weapon in hand, I went back home and approached Mommy Matt, who was giving himself a pink pedicure.
“Mommy Matt, I want a blog account,” I announced, glad that Mommy Matt always painted his toenails in private where Daddy Mohinder couldn’t overhear us.
“Ask Daddy,” Mommy Matt replied without looking up from his pinky toe. He smudged a bit on his foot. “Argh! Look what you made me do!”
“I already did,” I said. “He said no…I think. It was hard to tell.”
Mommy Matt opened his mouth, but before he could protest I whipped out the box of donuts. His mouth started to water and his eyes glazed over at the sight of the still warm donuts. Such a cliche about cops.
“You can have a blog account,” Mommy Matt said, almost sounding hypnotized.
“Thank you, Mommy Matt!” I exclaimed happily, tossing him the donuts and running to the computer. And that’s the story of how I came to be on Burnt Toast Diner. Exciting, huh?
I would stay longer, but I have to go now. Mommy Matt wants me to bake cookies with him. We always end up eating the raw cookie dough.