That last part struck me as odd: did my absent-minded daughter truly remember a story I told her about a person who just kept calling me Michella despite my numerous attempts to correct her?
And then I had an epiphany: my daughter does listen to me!
I gave myself a pat on the back when I realized this little tidbit. I know that it's just one small victory in the war to end my kids' bad manners/bad habits/bad everything. But who knows when this kind of thing will repeat itself?
And so, to commemorate the notch in my belt, I imagined a ticker-tape parade in my honor and mentally danced up the Canyon of Heroes.
Happy (belated) Mother's Day, everyone.