It is just after midnight, May 22, on Kiritimati Island. The earth is quiet and still, but above, there is a low rumbling in the clouds, a frenzied stir that can be heard just beyond the pearly gates. “Damnation! I just spilled wine on my robe. Now where did I put that other sandal? Hell’s fire, I am six hours late. Can’t this camel go any faster? And how do you program ‘heaven to earth’ on his piece of crap GPS?”
“K” is not for “Coincidence.”
We’d all like to be flies on a wall somewhere, and I decided my wall of choice would be a meeting at a children’s book publishing company. I imagine the conversation would go as follows:
“Did you hear the guys at Disney got away with a hidden penis on the cover of ‘The Little Mermaid’?”
“Rookies. We can do better.”
“The presses are ready to roll with ‘My First Book of Words.’ Take a look at this!”
Must all the fun in this house be at my expense?
Cool: wasting away a rainy morning playing dress-up with your preschooler.
Not cool: forgetting to take the tiara off your head before you drop her off at school.
Even less cool: having a husband who sees your tiara, elects not to tell you about it, and smirks at you all the way out the door.
And the next American Idol is…
