Mommy Mischief
I envisioned myself as James Bond, the super spy who drives fancy cars and has all the gadgets to get out of any uncomfortable predicament. Instead, I’m tailing a mother of three. The baby drooling on her shoulder, the middle one whining, the eldest walking circles around them all. After following her for a week, I’m finding it difficult to imagine this rundown woman who hasn’t showered in days is part of the knock-off designer bags ring. I pull my…