- 12.
A shipment of fresh lobsters, flown in from Australia by my husband, arrived at the mansion. Their long antennae twitc-
hed and waved menacingly.
See? This is how the rich show they care. So simple, so practical.
My husband, stil! overseas, had heard about the incident at the preschool and, as a “reward,” wired another million dolla-
rs to my account.
At the same time, he sent word that he would be returning soon.
Listen to that!
I told you this job was easy.
I even got rewarded for being a wicked stepmother.
Monica was drooling!
“Mommy, are we having lobster for dinner tonight?” she asked, her milky voice melting my heart.
“Nope,” I said sweetly. “Mommy
is having lobster tonight. You and your brother still have to eat your nutritional meals.”
The little girl’s face fell, but enticed by the lobster, she quickly recovered.
“Monica doesn’t want steak and eggs. Can I have lobster, please?”
The kid was adorable, but I was the wicked stepmother.
Soft–hearted? Not a chance.
“No.”
The two of them were extremely picky eaters. They wouldn’t touch milk or eggs, preferring things like salmon and king crab. I had hired a nutritionist specifically for them, and the new diet of meat, eggs, and dairy was a daily struggle.
I made the rule clear: “Whoever doesn’t finish their food has to do the dishes.”
Matt: (furiously chugs his milk)
Monica: (miserably eats her egg)
