Count It Out

Parenting is standing at the front door during a night storm, tiny scared girl on your hip, calmly teaching her to count the gap between the lightning and the thunder, just like your dad taught you a million years ago. The hardest part is pretending you’re not still a little afraid of the lightning yourself.

B-W-Please

Me: “It’s just you and me for dinner. Let’s go to BW3s.”

LMT: “No way. I hate BW3s. No way. No way. I hate bw3s. What is BW3s?”

Me: “They have chicken fingers and cheese fries and corn dogs. You’ll love it.”

LMT: “No way. I hate BW3s.”

Me: “They give you little tablets and you can play games the whole time.”

LMT: “I love BW3s!”