On Sunday, I taught the girl how to make a pot of coffee. And then she delivered a fresh hot cup to my bed.
A couple of weeks ago, she and I were in the supermarket, wandering down the bread aisle. A song from Footloose came on the PA. “Let’s watch Footloose tonight, Mama!” I - thinking about broadening her cultural education and knowing that she's seen Footloose rather more than once - asked her “have you seen Dirty Dancing?” She said “no”, and with that, a woman about 8 feet ahead of us whipped around and said “whaat‽” It was an exaggerated what, a go home this instant and watch it what, a spectacular moment of a stranger unable to stop herself from joining a conversation uninvited.
So the other night, we settled in to Dirty Dancing. Not far in, Baby’s mom makes an appearance. “It’s Emily Gilmore!”
Maybe you had to be there, but somehow, that was the icing on the cake.
Tomorrow she turns 14. And the cake will be cheesecake, because the tagline on her finsta reads "I probably love cream cheese more than I love you".
I love her more than cream cheese.
4 comments:
Happy Birthday, M.!
Happy birthday, M! I love parental posts on the cusps of birthdays--and I always love your stories.
Happy Birthday to your beautiful daughter! The teen years get to much bad press. My boys are 19 and 15 and I love the teens!
These are fantastic. I do that barging-into-other-conversations quite often - it's one gift that antidepressants have given me, because before them I could hardly even talk to the people I was supposed to talk to in public. I just realized I'm not sure if my 14-year-old girl has seen Dirty Dancing. So happy birth day, and thank-you.
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