So, TONIGHT I came home to a strange lady in the living room, chatting up my 14-year-old, Dancing Daughter. Guess who she was? Just guess. Come on, you can do it. If you guessed the Avon lady, YOU.WERE.WRONG. No, apparently, she is the “Young Woman’s President.” And she was here to fellowship my daughter. Well, I don’t think she said fellowship. She said she just cared about her, and wanted her to know. They weren’t going to “bug her,” oh no, but “hey, BY THE WAY, we are going to see the Joseph Smith story down in Salt Lake tomorrow, and would you like to come.”
She may CARE about the child, but she damn straight doesn’t know her. Invite her to see a viewing of Twilight, and she’s in. Maybe even invite her over to the church, where there might be boys her age present, and you could possibly see her there. But a movie about Joseph Smith? Why yes, please, cut off both her legs and let her know that dancing will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. Dancing Daughter isn’t a dancer for nothing, and she is mighty quick on her feet. She managed to come up with the story that she had a drill practice on Wednesday nights, and wouldn’t be free. Now, see, she DOES have a drill team practice on Wednesday night, with the exception of TOMORROW, which is a Wednesday night. It was all I could do to keep from yelling out LIAR! You know, like Carol Kane does in the movie The Princess Bride?
But I didn’t, because I picked my side long ago, and if I turn traitorous on these children, I might find myself with constant visits from missionaries who have been told that I am REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY interesting in knowing more about their church. Never mind that I know more about their church than most of them will ever know.
Plus I tried to leave about a million years ago, and was GREATLY unsuccessful.
They are stuck with me.
And the lady did not bring milk, or even meat to follow the milk, but she DID bring banana bread. Yum.