For the Queen

Me, flipping through radio stations in the car.

My Oldest, age 13: “blah blah My Chemical Romance blah blah Fall Out Boy blah blah… Wait! What was THAT?”

Me, flipping back a station: “This? Oh, this is Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Oldest: “It’s… so… different.”

Me: “Yep. They mixed heavy metal and opera, back when everyone else was into Disco. Total visionaries. Totally rocked.”

Oldest: “That is so awesome. I need to tell my friends! I need this on my iPod.”

Me: (tears in eyes) “Yes. Yes, you do.”

Bar None

Dinner with My Oldest, age 13.

Olive Garden Hostess: “Would you two like to wait for a table or just sit in the bar?”

Me: “Uh… How old do you think she is?”

Hostess: (horrified stare)

Me: “She’s 13.”

Hostess: “Oh my god! Really? I’m so sorry.”

Oldest: “It’s OK.”

Me: “No. No, it is not.”

Little Miss Thing, age 5: “Let’s play I Spy.”

My Oldest, age 13: “No. I don’t want to.”

LMT: “Yes!”

Oldest: “No, seriously.”

LMT: “I spy… with my little eye… something that is… black.”

Oldest: “Your soul?”

LMT: “What is a soul? I don’t think I have one.”

Oldest: “This explains a lot.”