I love my daughter. She is uber cool. Funny, sweet, helpful and—oddly for a teenager these days—obedient So, now and then I like to indulge her. That must explain why I volunteered to be a community coordinator for her on-line high school. Volunteering means I get to come up with clever ideas to amuse teenagers who have been chained to their computers for weeks on end. And, since I am the community coordinator, or ‘in charge’, I get to go on these outings when I have strep throat. Felt like I’d been gargling glass shards and razor blades the morning of our most recent trip. I’m on antibiotics and not contagious now. Dang. No excuse to stay in bed…
Anyway, somebody suggested I organize a trip to the Oregon Humane Society to visit the doggies. The volunteer hours would count toward National Honor Society.
How dumb am I?
Of course, my daughter gets there and finds “the dog”. “Mom! This dog loves me! Look mom! It’s like we have a psychic connection or something! I have to rescue this animal! Seriously, look at her!”
I’m looking. I see an ageing, indistinguishable breed, lumpy-ear’d mutt staring dolefully at my daughter. “Yeah, well you’ll have to get this past your dad.” I’m golden. He said no more dogs.
“Mom! I just got off the phone with Daddy-kins!”
“He’ll meet us here after work! We just have to go home and get Thurston (our fat golden retriever) and the kids and make sure she likes all of us.”
Huh? Continue reading