Monday, November 24, 2008

Some Days Go Like This:

One of your kids is playing the piano. "Hot Crossed Buns."
You didn't know that they knew it.
They play the first three notes.
Hot, crossed buns.
Then the second three notes.
Hot, crossed buns.
And then they play:
Hot, crossed buns.
And then:
Hot, crossed buns.
And in your head, you think, "One a-penny..."
And they play:
Hot, crossed buns.
And in your head, you think, "Come on one a-penny!"
And they play:
Hot, crossed buns.
You think: "ONE A-PENNY!"
And they play:
Hot, crossed buns.
And in your head, you say, "It's okay. They only know that much. What's wrong with that? I can live in a dimension in which we only get to..."
And they play:
Hot, crossed buns.
And this goes on.
And on.
Hot, crossed buns.

Until, much later, you're crying on the phone to your husband, saying, "I don't know why I lost it ... I just started screaming ONE A-PENNY TWO A-PENNY! ONE A-PENNY! TWO A-PENNY! And ..." You lower your voice. "It felt so good."