Yesterday I (blissfully) took the morning off my horrible work to go to a job interview, and I had some extra time, so I bought a copy of the Ladies Home Journal and went and had brunch at Denny's by myself. It was lovely.
Anyway, I began reading this 'My Life As A Mom' sort of column, by a woman I assume is around my age, and I read along, entirely able to picture myself in her shoes in about five years. She has two daughters. They are adopted from China. One is called Anna, and the other Sasha. Sasha has a speech-process disability. I read, with perfect identification, about Anna's decision to become 'Princess Kitty Cat Butterfly', and Sasha's fourth birthday party at McDonalds.
And then they returned home, and the narrator gave Sasha her present, a miniature donkey. Which she described as a 'good starter equine'.
I cannot, I find, imagine myself living a life where I would ever think to give a four-year-old a ministure donkey. Where I would ever think to give ANYONE a miniature donkey. Or where the words 'starter equine' make any sense at all.
The Balabusta is strictly urban, folks. Even if she currently lives in the 'burbs.
No comments:
Post a Comment