Today was a very hot day, one of those few days of the year where it gets 90 degrees or so in San Francisco, and the children and I were too parched to get on the bus. We stopped off first at a cool, quiet cafe to unparch. I was pursued into this cafe by a crazy woman who was convinced that she and I had a longstanding debate pending over Yoko Ono, and she followed us right through our orders and up into the back of the cafe, all the while ranting "I have told you how Yoko Ono still can't speak English", "Her English is worse than mine!", "After all these years, Yoko Ono can't speak English!" and "Yoko Ono!", while glaring at me and stomping around me in circles. Thankfully she eventually tired of my polite refusal to engage on the Yoko-Ono's-fluency question and left before I needed to call the police.
After our refreshing drinks and some bagels for the children, we left the cafe. As Lola and I waited for the lagging Iris uber Alles, Lola turned to me with a smile and showed me that she was cradling an empty can of Canada Dry in her hands.
Lola (very happily): It's Canny!
Me (sternly): No way.
Lola looked at me questioningly.
Me (even more sternly): I have to draw a line, and I am drawing it here. We are not filling our house up with cans. Put that in the recycling.
Lola dragged off and returned, without the can and with tears in her eyes. "Canny was so innocent!" she cried.
3 comments:
You're such a cruel mother!
Where's temporary crowny? Poor temporary crowny!!!
Sooner or later she'll have to learn about Canny's evil cousin Trash.
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