My mother is not cliché; she is not the type of mom that will fold all of your clothes and place them in your dresser after she washed and dried them, and then clean your room. She is the type of mom that will cook dinner and watch movies with us, and even though she may be a bit moody, I love our talks and I love her as a whole. That is why I’m seated on my bed, waiting for her to come in my room.
“Want some hot cocoa?” she asked as she pushed open my door. She had two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands.
I got up and took one out of her hand, bringing it to my lips and sipping it. “Saltines!” I shouted as I retracted the sweltering mug from my lips. “Why didn’t you tell me it was hot?”
“I didn’t think I’d have to; it is called hot chocolate," she snorted as she closed the door. She placed
