Too bad we already made a witch joke -- maybe we'll think of another one later.

My son's favorite story book used to be "The Magic Porridge Pot," by Paul Galdone. It's about, you know, a magic porridge pot. This little girl is crying in the woods because she and her mother don't have any food and she can't even find any nuts or berries or anything. Very pathetic. And then this weird old woman comes up and gives her a pot that will make all the food you want.

The important part of all this backstory is that I used to do a very creaky voice for this old woman, and at one point she says, "Do not worry, my dear." That's after the little girl has said to herself, not knowing anyone was there listening, "What will we do? We're so hungry." Got it? Okay.

One morning I'd read this story to my son. It was about an hour later, and I was a complete basket case. It was just one of those days when no matter how I tried, I just couldn't get us out the door. "Oh, for crying out loud," I finally said in a not-too-quiet voice, "I can't stand this any more! What am I going to do? We're never going to get out of here!"

My little son, maybe four years old, comes up and says in this weird, crackly voice, "Do not flip out, my dear."

I started laughing hysterically, but I felt like the worst mommy on the planet. Here my son was making me feel better, when it was supposed to be the other way around. Plus, even weird witchy women in story books were way nicer than I was. Great.