More Passive than Aggressive
In a conversation with my mom she mentioned that she thought it was interesting how each of us kids has a different name for her. My brother calls her "mom", my sister calls her "mommy", and I still call her "mother". I figure this was as good as time as any to tell her about the blast from the past and reveal the origins of how she came to be referred to as "mother". However, somehow, she conveniently blocked the original conversation from her memory. I told her it was probably early onset Alzheimer’s or a surge of hormones from the menopausal years that currently renders her brain flaccid and oblivious to my nefarious plotting. Apparently my attempt to be passive aggressive in my teenage years was an utter flop.
