--> Thursday was Zoe's birthday, the big birthday that involves the DMVand taking pictures of herself sitting behind the wheel holding her new ID.
Because it was such a big deal, and because she has put in the requisite hours driving a golf cart, I let her drive my car a little on the way home. It wasn't that bad. She was cautious and comfortable and respectful and excited and it was going so well that I let her park in the garage, which seemed like a great idea until I screamed. A little. Besides that, we all - house, car, mother, daughter - survived.
On Friday Zoe is ready to drive again.
I'm not. Instead I find things to do. I make posts that will publish every 30 minutes-ish for days. I make cookies. I fold towels. Zoe asks again, can she please drive a little today and I wince a little, involuntarily.
Her face lights up. "Your eyebrows look great! What did you do to them?"
I smile, thankful for a new and more interesting topic, but then she says, "And I'm NOT saying that to suck up to you so we can go driving...."her voice petering out at the end of the sentence at the realization of self-betrayal.
I'm game. I pose and ask, "how's my ....?" and point to one of my feminine assets which has spent the past 7 months running up and down hills.
She shakes her head.
I shake mine back. No way. No way anything is wrong with it. I offer, "These pants are too big, it's not me...."
She shakes her head again and says "There are these things for $7 on Amazon that give you a bigger.... they kinda ADD and then BOOM and they have all great reviews.... wait let me show you... I think it's on Prime and you can get it for yourself for your birthday...."
I don't look, don't ask, and go on finding things to do.
