Lonely

Troy: “Was mama born on that chair?”
Me: “What chair?”
Troy: “The one in her office.”
Me: “Why do you say that?”
Troy: “Because she’s always on it. She’s in there every day. It’s been like so many years! She needs to get out of there sometimes and walk around.”
Me: “I’m sure she’d rather play with you than be stuck in there working in her office. But it’s her job. Cut her some slack.”
Troy [dejectedly]: “Okay.”