or at least that's what my kids apparently see when they look at me. There are outings with the children where I feel nothing more than a glorified pack mule.
"Here, Mom, hold my jacket."
"Here, Mom, hold my drink."
"Here, Mom, take my trash."
"Here, Mom, hold my [chewed] gum."
Sometimes I wonder if the only way I'll be able to get their attention is if I kick up my hind legs and bray.