I try to say something that makes Ray laugh every time I drop her off at school. I don’t plan these things, I just babble.
Today, she said, “Well, mother?”
I tried to push her out of the car, but no luck.
So I said, “Well, actually, I don’t feel like going anywhere today, so let’s just sit here.” And then I leaned back in the seat.
Rachael opened the door. “I’m leaving!”
I pretended to sob. “You don’t love me anymore.”
Then she said, while staring at the mountains (it gave her a faraway look in her eyes), “I still love you, mother. But I have to learn.” Then she slammed the door and skipped up the hill to school.
I laughed so hard I almost cried.