Today Strudel came home early with a high fever. She said she was cold all day and her teacher said “Well, I guess you are going to have to live with it,” which sounds exactly like something I would say to Strudel if she was bitching about whatever (she is an expert complainer) but is also exactly the kind of thing that offends me when someone says that to my child. WHY did you not immediately get her a space heater and a nest made entirely of sterilized dove feathers and angel farts? And then I say, oh yes, she complains all the time. LOUDLY. In conferences her teacher said “We always know how Strudel is feeling at any given moment” which is code for “Your child is always bitching about fucking something.”

This is my fault, because when I was a kid and frustrated by something my mother would say “Oh” and when Strudel says, “They run out of apples by the time I get through the lunchline,” I say, “You know, you could politely ask if they have more apples and explain that you would really like one and they are out. Or you could bring a fruit from home.” And then her father says, “OR you could make your own lunch.”

She sighed. Too much information. I try to remember to just dole out some pity sometimes as well.

Tomorrow my friend Hovy and I are going off to get Elvis doughnuts! I am taking pics again.