It’s definitely got its perks, my parents’ home being so close to my job. I generally crash there at least one night a week when I’ve got to work late, and with my mom off to New York for the Spring, my dad tends to leave me alone when he’s not bringing me breakfast in bed. Like I said, there are perks.
My father’s never really stuck his nose in my business. I’m a girl so as far as he’s concerned, I could be on the brink of an emotional explosion over some guy or some lipgloss at all times. Anything remotely girly, he washes his hands of, not because he’s some big, butch man. But because it makes him wildly uncomfortable. Like the time my mother went away on a business trip when I was three. I was certainly fed and tucked in and loved. But I was left to my own devices in terms of bathing, clothing and accessorizing myself. Which is how I ended up at preschool in a taffeta party dress and baseball hat with no underwear on. My mother, returning from the airport, picked me up at school where she was gently pulled aside by a teacher and informed I had been sent to preschool commando. It’s not that my dad thinks three year olds should wander the world naked. He just regarded my ensemble as none of his business.
Anyway, I love my mom and I’m thrilled she’s back from the Big Apple. I got to their house from work yesterday evening and she covered me in kisses and then said, “You’re exhausted. Here’s a Diet Coke. I’ll leave you alone.”
This morning, I woke up, showered and dressed for work, pulling this skirt from the pile of clothes I keep in my brother’s room.
I kissed my dad goodbye.
“You look cute!” my dad hollered.
I went to kiss my mom goodbye. I walked in and found her working at the computer. She looked up at me and smiled. “Do you want to know that I can see your black underpants through your white skirt.”
Hey lady, at least I’m wearing some…