Does anyone else do this kind of stuff with their daughter?
As I’m writing at the kitchen table, I intermittently glance out the window – enjoying flashes of flora and fauna in our backyard. The Engleman’s Ivy lushly embraces the pergola, the grass is green, there are birds and squirrels, and… a… fox? As I lean to the side of my computer screen, desperate to catch…
“Rissa, come look!!” I yell. “What? What?” She slides in the kitchen in her socked feet. I point out the window. “Look! The snow is falling all in slow motion! Isn’t it beautiful??” “OOOOOOOOH! It’s so pretty!” (Given this year’s snow ridiculous accumulation, I don’t know how we can still be impressed, but there it…
We are in the Men’s Outerwear department at Sears. (David has finally abandoned his attempts to zip up his existing jacket with an XL paper clip.) “This one. This one is good.” David holds up a long, black parka. “You haven’t tried it on yet.” “Yes, but it LOOKS good. Good hood, good pockets…” David…
By my own ass, no less. It’s the 3-way mirror’s fault. Feeling great about myself – finding that cute perfect-for-me dress – that I actually have the money in hand to pay for – I sashay my ass into the change room. I cast off my clothes and as I’m turning around, I catch a…
“Mummy, do you know where the plastic container with the clicking lid is?” “No. I do not. I’m not sure where it went. Maybe Daddy took it to school.” Rissa sighs deeply. I barely hear her say, “I call her ‘Clicky’.” “Pardon me?” Rissa now speaks loudly and clearly. “I call her ‘Clicky’.” “Did you…
I’m holding my hands to my face to hide my blushing cheeks. David shakes his head at me. “You are ridiculous.” “I can’t help it.” We’re watching The Good Wife. Finn Polmar has just flirted with Alicia Florrick. I feel it would be bad form to beg to rewind the scene… right away… with David…