So, I was sitting at the kitchen table one morning last week, sweaty from running, apparently quite happy about something or other, and I broke into song. A made-up song. Complete with rhythmic, exuberant clapping.
Everything was going great until Nina walked into the kitchen, marched up to me, and said, “Mommy!”
I stopped singing mid-note, held my clap-happy hands apart and raised my eyebrows as if to say, “Yes?”
She pointed to the journal I’d been writing in before I lost myself in the “music” and said two little words with big attitude.
Well. I never. Hmph.