Me: “Eva! That was very bad!”
Eva: “I’m sorry, Mama! I didn’t mean to!”
Me: “You DID mean to. I watched you hold out your plate and give it to her.”
Eva: “But it was an accident!”
Me: “It wasn’t an accident, Eva. An accident means you didn’t do it on purpose.”
Eva: “I love you Mama!”
Me: “I love you too, but you did a very bad thing.”
Eva: “But…can I have a cupcake?”
I wonder if the same defensive strategy might have worked for Conrad Murray?
Last weekend the whole extended family attended a luncheon at the Litchfield Inn in honor of my uncle. I was in charge of the girls, who ran between the wait staff’s feet as I chased them around with an omelet, while Doug took Tyler under his wing. Where do you suppose he took him first?
Once I started teaching in Simsbury, my worst fear was running into students and their parents at the grocery store. This weekend, however, I discovered there’s something far worse—running into your hairdresser at the grocery store.
During my entire conversation with Ashley, my young and talented stylist whose efforts go largely to waste after the first shampoo, I thought to myself, I’ve had this feeling before. I couldn’t place when or where, but I knew I felt like it a million times in the past.
Then I remembered. It was five times a day between the years 1986 and 1991, at the beginning of each class during homework check. The look on Ashley’s face was reminiscent of Miss Mead’s as she walked away with her grade book, shaking her head and lamenting how I didn’t apply myself.
I hear it’s never too late to make a New Year’s resolution, so here is my vow: from this day forward, I will never leave my house with a greasy ponytail again.
Yesterday I picked a tick the size of a balloon off my dog’s neck. A tick in the middle of February?
It reminded me of dragonfly I spotted in my backyard shortly after Christmas. He was staggering around like the last cockroach after a nuclear war, but still, it survived the first frost and the Halloween nor’easter.
Incidentally, Shirley Maclain is reviving her career at the Warner Theater on March 25.
Global warming is a mysterious thing.