A=Aarav aka Goosh. “Goosh” has been deprecated now that he’s a big boy
Of late I’ve been having quite a few business dinners. And each time I’m torn – whether to run home to A; or stay back for a somewhat boring business dinner.
The first time H spun a story around it and told A that it’s a boys’ pizza night.
The second time, I caved in; bunked the business dinner and joined them for pizza.
Today, I’m caught. H asked the lil fellow if he’d like to go for pizza. The brat usually jumps for joy at the mere mention of the word. Instead, I’m told, he pulled a straight face and said “let’s wait for mumma.”
Hmm. Now I’m really torn.
How do other working moms deal with this?
And do the ‘working dads’ also routinely face these guilt pangs?