My short kid is quite the drama queen. If I were to tell him, “Somebody’s trying to tell you something and maybe if you talk less and listen more, you’d know what’s going on”, he would pull a Scarlet O’Hara and start wailing, “I’ll never talk again! I’m going to my room so you’ll never have to see me again. Maybe I’ll run away from home so you never have to hear my voice ever again!”
Despite knowing I despise it, his flair for melodrama is unsurpassed. Except by my professional peers, some of whom are way too in touch with their inner kindergarteners.
So today’s a good day to get the hell out of the house—it’s warm and we’re going to Build-A-Bear, the bookstore, and we’ll probably stop by a couple of snowmobile/ATV dealerships. It’s time to shut the lid on the laptop and count to ten. Several times. I might even need an abacus.