Monday, December 06, 2004
Timing
Deuxième Daughter possesseth qualités no parents can teach. I fear for the future. Not hers, maybe her mother's and mine; definitely those she interacts with.
- You know how in the supermarket your children amble off to do stuff and you have to let them go because you're embroiled in shopping but - dash it - you want them right there at the checkout, and what is more irritating than the chouette arrives with candy and glam mag at the precise moment you've clinched the bill. Anna can be invisible throughout the hunter gathering stage, but she's right there as I hit the checkout and demn'd polite about asking is it alright if she just adds a "Temptressa" eyeliner or that mag that's headlining how to kiss him right
- She sleeps soundly and wakes with maquillage accoutrements in hand, looking as if it'll be noon when ready, but when it's time to go, she's there, *everything* ready and remembering what *I* need to be toting ("Dad, your check book." "Got it" "Your *fresh* checks. You used the last one on the phone bill, remember?" "You the babe, babe")
- She has a built-in compass: 2nd time en route back anywhere, "Dad, we turned left last time." Whaddya mean? We - oh yeh ... same to you, fellah!"
- She cleans up and puts away.
- "Hey darling, what we treat ourselves? Look around at the CDs." Minutes later it's "No, didn't see anything".
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