On Thanksgiving, Sally hit on the world’s most efficient way to get anything she wants. We were sitting at the dinner table, mashed potatoes quickly cooling, and my mom–the hostess–said “who would like to say grace?” This is the time we all look toward my brother (the golden child) and my youngest sister (The youngest, therefore the one who automatically gets all the crappy tasks). They both stalled just a hair too long, leaving Sally her spectacular window of opportunity.
Her hand went up, preschool style. “I can do it,” said the Who from Whoville. Everyone looked at her cheerfully. Except me. I looked at her like she might projectile vomit on the turkey. She has no idea what “grace” is — at our table before dinner we say things like “MOM! I still don’t have milk!” and “What IS this?! It smells disgusting!”
But she put her hands in her lap and gazed up at my mom, who we’ll call Nan, because we call her Nan. “I’m thankful for Nan.”
And I swear checkbooks came out to pay future college tuition bills. My dad went out to the garage and brought in the pony he’d been saving for a rainy day. My mom gave Sally an entire pie. They’re building her a castle for Christmas.
Seriously, the kid could have ANYTHING after a performance like that. So I tried it with Mr. Embee. All I got was a snort and “Did you give the cat his antibiotics yet?” Guess you’ve got to be a freaking ray of sunshine to pull it off.
**The next post on this blog will be my 100th. Woah. Stay tuned for some sort of prize for a lucky reader.