Queen of Backhanded Compliments

We had a little celebratory dinner last night in our house. It’s been a big year. Another cross-country move, new schools, new jobs, yet another new home. Sissy received a glowing report card. Piper finally learned to swim. We’ll take any excuse for a party. I let Sissy and Piper plan the menu: pizza, lemonade, salad, fancy miniature pastries. The table was set with superfluous paper umbrellas and paper plates. Candles were lit. We’re fancy.

We took a moment to say what we were grateful for. Piper was thankful we all know our place in the family. “Mommy, I’m glad you keep us doing. That way we never get bored and we get our doing done. Daddy, thanks for not eating the stuff you’re allergic to so that you can make everything fun because when you’re sick, you aren’t fun at all. And, Sissy, your job is to make everyone happy. You always play with me and that makes us all happy.”

For the Love of Sissy

Gratitude is a funny thing.  It creeps up on you. It can make you weepy.

Tonight at dinner we were imagining what we’d do if no one told us what to do anymore.  If you could plan one whole day without responsibilities, how would you spend it? We’ve been having authority problems, you see. It was just a question to start a conversation.  I said I’d write more, sleep more, and probably never cook again.  My partner wants to go to guitar stores and be that guy who plays every single guitar and never buys a thing.  Sissy wants more time to read and to go to Ikea twice a day for more organizational supplies.  I tell you, we dream big around here.  Piper’s answer?  “I’d just want to be with my Sissy. That’s all.”

And it’s enough.