When your daughter naps at preschool, is it possible she’ll stay awake until 11:34 PM? You bet it is.
Put another way, you know it (and PS it SUCKS).
I knew it’d be bad. I grocery shopped while she stayed home with the brothers and then we went out to dinner. We didn’t leave the restaurant till nearly 9PM. Worried Union of Concerned Mothers would cite me for this late night outing on a Monday night. Instead, we saw the Mayor on Main Street as we went toward the car. The Mayor showed no concern. (Phew).
Did I mention the papa was away for five days? He returned just as she fell asleep on that fifth night. I’d say evening, but it sure as hell wasn’t… evening any longer.
However, when you wind up on the couch with your five and your seventeen year-old at 11 PM and he tells you not to back down with her, lest you be a permissive parent—and adds she’s in the Electra Phase and raises questions about her penis envy… And she meantime enjoys the word, ‘penis.’ She tosses in ‘vagina’ a few times, too, and is pretty much in hysterics because she’s saying these words at this hour. She’s punch drunk. Soon, she’ll be pulling clothes off (wait, that happened at 10 PM) or dishing about the preschool set.
Here’s something that happened earlier on the walk home from preschool.
Sammy (through the car window): “Bye, girlfriend!”
Me: “Why’d Sammy call you his girlfriend.”
Saskia: “I’m his girlfriend; he’s my boyfriend.”
Me: “What’s a boyfriend?”
Saskia: “I don’t know.”
Grateful for the fact that these people keep me so well amused and grateful the teenager’s insights about psychology, thanks to the AP test in psychology. Grateful for the mail, which brought me both Brain Child Magazine—with my essay on the back page—and Volume 2 of the Nashville Soundtrack.
Let me link you to Brain Child Magazine. Let me suggest that it’s Mothers’ Day-able and it’s new baby gift-able and it’s congratulations your child graduated-able. Or it’s I-deserve-a-great-read-able, so if you subscribe for someone else get yourself a subscription, too. To support smart, funny writing is a fine cause.
Lastly, my friend Andrew Harkins would have been 51 last week and before he died nearly 20 years ago he’d already created a body of work as a photographer that’s stunning. Another friend, Jordy Rabinowitz, pulled Andrew’s images together into a book. I wanted you to know about. There’s a page on Facebook, too, to learn more. PS Jordy’s a terrific photographer.