It’s Friday afternoon.
Willey and I are beat from a week of work. On Thursdays, the girls have symphony practice from 4:30pm – 8:30pm. They are inundated with homework, practicing violin each night and then there’s the study sessions through Skype. At ages ten and a half and twelve, the girls’ hormones are starting to be characters in and of themselves. The activity level in our household grows exponentially each year.
We’re driving to dinner and Willey is uncharacteristically quiet, easily agitated with traffic….I gently prod, “Are you OK?” He sighs and says yes. But the females in the car know he’s grumpy. This is weird. Ava asks, “Dad, guess what?” To which he normally guesses, “Uh, let’s see…..an elephant walked in your class today. You won the lottery. You have the hiccups. Your sister hit you…” On and on until Ava says, “No! Just listen!” But this time, he merely grunts. Ava’s not confident she should continue speaking. “Never mind,” she says dejectedly. Willey realizes he’s created a situation. He lashes out, “Come on, Ava! Just tell me!”
Josie says, “Dad’s on his period.”
We all giggle, even the one with the curse.