Friday, February 26, 2010
There should be a rule, celestial or otherwise, that anyone under the age of six cannot have a birthday fall on a weekend. "Mommy will be at pre-school this morning, sweetie, to pass out treats." I reminded my four (almost five year old). "It's my birthday?" Frances asked, thrilled beyond belief. "No honey, not today. Remember, your real birthday is tomorrow, but because tomorrow is a Saturday, we're celebrating it at school today." Apparently what she heard was "Blah blah blah blah blah today blah blah blah blah birthday." because immediately following my very clear explanation, Frances squealed, "Today is my Birthday!" "Good God, NO!!!" I burst. "Today is not your birthday. Tomorrow is your birthday. Please try to stay with me here, Fran." "Can I open my presents?" she wanted to know, and I lost it. By the time I was finished, Frances was in tears and I was completed ashamed of myself. When I arrived, at exactly 9:10 am to pass out donut holes and read the class a book, Frances looked like every four, almost five, year old looks like on her birthday: excited, a little bit shy, slightly embarrassed, and very relieved that her Mommy was there to pass out treats--no matter what day it was.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
"Goodbye" my seventeen year old daughter waved to me as she headed out the door for a first date. "You look like a hooker." I yelled back. "Well, so did you last Friday night." she countered. "That may be," I allowed, "But the difference is, your father pays me very well to look dress like a hooker whereas this boy has yet to buy you dinner. Put on a sweater and raise your price." I advised. And I am happy to report that she did.