Yesterday, I let Emily get feather extensions in her hair...she is now adorned with 6 thin rooster-tail plumes in fuschia, black, and white that peek out from the front of her shoulder-length bob, which can be blow-dried, straightened, or curled right along with her real hair. She's been asking for them for weeks, even offering to pay for them herself at one point--and so, today, as a reward for her hard work in preparing for Thursday night's Academic Bowl competition, I obliged her request. I stood by silently as she considered--and, mercifully, discarded--a neon green ensemble that made my eyes hurt. After a lengthy period of consideration, she settled on the fuschia striped bundle, and ten minutes later, she emerged from JC's Funky Hair Ranch a new woman.
This morning, after she'd showered and dried her hair, I asked her how her new accessories were holding up. Her response?
"Very well, I think!" I smiled at this, and told her that I loved that she knew when to use "well" as opposed to "good." At this, she rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated with me. "Mom, I'm eleven, for crying out loud!" I laughed, explaining that there were plenty of adults who didn't know which word was appropriate, to which she replied:
"Yeah? And how many of THEM have YOU for a mother?"
I agree with Emily, no one else has you as their mother! I remember starting at IPS as a freshly graduated PharmD and had NO idea I would have my grammar corrected so readily... so frequently... and with a smile whilst patting me on the head. I had to actually give you a limit as to how many corrections could be made per day. The sad thing was it was usually reached within the first hour of the workday. Yes, it was that bad.
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