I woke up. It was dark, and I blinked my eyes as my parched mouth and throat made themselves known. I was so thirsty. Only one thing could quench this overwhelming feeling so I called out for my mom. “Mom!”….louder “Mooom!” I waited a few seconds, the back of my mouth threatening to dry up and crumble. Mom opened the door and asked what the matter was, “I’m thirsty”. She left and came back about thirty seconds later. My mouth began to water as I reached out for the only thing in this world that would end my torture. I took a drink, then cringed, wrinkling my nose and pursing my lips. With tears in my eyes, I told my mom, “I’m not thirsty for water…” especially not lukewarm and from the bathroom sink. I felt like I had wandered into a bad dream. How could my mother, giver of life, comforter of boo-boos, provide me with this paltry excuse for liquid? “…I’m thirsty for pop.” That cold, sweet, bubbly invention was what my mouth was calling for. My mother told me I wasn’t getting pop, that we didn’t even have any, and if I was thirsty then water was all I was getting.

Parents must interpret their children’s wants and needs, while keeping in mind what is best and healthy. Certainly my mother did the right thing by giving me water when I was thirsty, regardless of my plea for something else, but that memory sticks in my mind. I’m grateful for the interpretations my mom has made of my wants and needs during my childhood. Thanks, Mom. Love, Jessica.