Deuces

I sat down with a sandwich (and for the record I know food is often featured in my stories and I’m #notsorry I have the body of a 17th century Victorian goddess who also loves #tacotuesday) The sandwich was bomb, guys. The fresh sliced turkey from some fancy deli, and pepper jack cheese and just the right amount of mayo and mustard.  The bread had tiny seeds, also super fancy.  I was at my mom’s and that place is feast or famine central and as I sat down to take a bite Alana implored me, without notice: “mommy you take me potty?” My slight annoyance must have been palpable. Hadn’t I taken her potty only moments before?  And I know I’m a mom and I’m supposed to find trips to the potty to be magical and rewarding but honestly, ya’ll I was hankering for that turkey sandwich and watching “The Intern” on BluRay with my mom.  As I sighed and stood up quickly, lest my little ángel tinkle in her jeggings, I must have looked less than enthusiastic. Alana’s face changed to sur...

“He’s hot”, my 7 year old said as a tweenager passed our table. Pizza still in my mouth, mid-chew, I looked at her, and scanned the vicinity for the boy who passed too quickly.  She’s 7 going on 18, and I could see the goofy, whimsical smile cross her face as she taunted Lloyd and I. We all laughed, and I turned in my chair to say “she thinks you’re hot” to the boy no longer behind us. Sayler’s face flushed pink, quickly turning around, herself now mid-chew as she prepared to face her embarrassment. Alas, she was safe... for now. When did my young daughter start saying boys were “hot”? Was it as her second top tooth fell out? Was it when we were finishing up her 2nd grade year-end Ruby Bridges presentation? Perhaps as her toes pushed out of her cleats, now somewhere between size 12-12.5. My brazen, sometimes shy, clever and wickedly funny daughter thinks boys are “hot” and I may just about die. Die laughing, but nonetheless, death ya’ll.