Fez

You can't give your four-year-old daughter a nickname like Fez and expect her to be completely normal. The other evening, after we had sent our little blonde-haired blue-eyed creatures to bed for, like, the 37th time, Fez dramatically descended the stairs wearing her Most Pathetic Face. She pulls this face out on rare occasions when she wants to eat frosting straight from the can or drive our car. Maybe not so rare. So she says, in her Most Pitiful Voice, blue eyes blinking, "Mommy...can I trouble you for a drink of water?" *sniff* To which I replied, "NO! Get back in BED!" To which Fez replied, "But my tummy is saying, 'I'M THIRSTY! I NEED A DRINK!'" Apparently her stomach sounds exactly like the monster people in I Am Legend. No wonder she is such a slave to her appetite. Her excuses in the past have been, "I need a drink or I'll be a flat banana," and (my personal favorite), "If I don't get a drink I'll be a smashed tomato." She seems to have a very graphic, produce-related self-image. Don't get me wrong, I do not want my first-born to turn into a smashed tomato. I wish only the best for her future-- I was thinking more along the lines of her becoming a doctor or New York Times Bestselling author. Becoming a smashed tomato--or flat banana, for that matter--were not how I envisioned my daughter's future. Nevertheless, I denied her request for refreshment, and sent her--crying--to bed. She awoke the next morning, with her original Swedish/German genes intact. No bananas or tomatoes, much to my relief. So am I a bad mom?