Not the Mama

   Do y'all remember that old tv show with the dinosaurs and the little one would bang on another one's head yelling, "Not the mama, not the mama"? Well, I really wanted to do that recently. I've stated before that I don't have children. I don't have babies or infants or toddlers or preteens or teens or grown kids. I don't have natural born or adopted or step children. I don't have ANY, unless you consider Charlie, my miniature long-haired chihuahua, to be my "child". I don't get startled or turn suddenly in public places when I hear a small, annoying voice call out "Mommmmaaaaa". I know they're not calling to me.
   Well, last night I stopped to see a "client" at his new residence. He was sitting on the porch with another gentleman. As I exited my vehicle, the client approached me in the front yard. He greeted me with, "Hey, whassup mama?" What? Who? Who are you talking to? Is there someone behind me? I asked him what he'd said. I thought maybe I didn't hear him correctly or maybe he didn't recognize me (in my uniform shirt and gun and badge) or maybe I'm crazy and made it up in my head. Well, he repeated it, so I asked him why on earth he called me mama. He said "Oh, I call all pretty ladies mama". So, I reminded him of my name and my title and what he should call me.
   During this brief exchange all I could think was "I'm not your mama". If I was your mama, you wouldn't be having this conversation with me. Seriously, do you think I would give birth to, then raise a drug dealing, drunk, violent felon? Ummm...no. Okay, I know that even good parents can end up with bad seed children, so let me expound on how I know that wouldn't be me. I don't have kids because I'm a fan of violence. I like corporal punishment. I like discipline. I like for children to be children and adults to be adults. I don't want kids, because those screaming brats in restaurants and the Walmart make me almost understand shaking kids til their heads pop off. I don't want to have children, love them, then go to jail for slapping them silly. No, if I was his mama, he would have been raised with a fear that would have kept him out of jail. I know that fear, because my daddy ingrained it in me. By the way, I've never been to jail.
   Besides, what does it mean he thinks of his real mama, if he refers to every hot chick he sees by her "name"? Ummm...Freudian much?