I busted a move on the dance floor at the elementary school book fair last night. I owned that gym. Sissy told me to stop. Last week I was still cool. This week I’ve become embarrassing. Yet I don’t feel any different at all.

Piper still let me dance, though, or at least shimmy a little in the book fair aisles as we searched for books. She was on a mission. “I will read books if there are puppies involved,” she declared. It’s not too tough at an elementary school book fair to find a book with puppies. This was our first prize:

You and I know there’s no such thing as a “perfect” Thanksgiving, but this darn puppy had to learn the hard way. First she bossed everyone around and then she got all puppy stressed about the decor. You know how it goes. You want things to be right. If they look right and taste right, suddenly your family will be less dysfunctional. We get you, perfect puppy. We’ve all been there. In the end, of course, the puppy’s Thanksgiving meal is a disaster but her family is good enough. Awwww.

But the real takeaway, besides the warm fuzzy message to just breathe, was the next book. I saw Piper’s eyes bulge as she examined it. “Mom,” she said, “I’ve found it. The book I’ve been waiting for my whole life.”

“Really?” I asked. “Your whole life? Wow. It must be special.”

“Oh, it is. Just look.” Then Piper held up the coveted page to me.

A puppy in a tutu? Wow. Just Wow. Not that is a perfect puppy for the Piper