Little Miss Can't Be Wrong
Yesterday, when I got home from work, Georgia asked me to go jogging with her. I reminded her I had to get to Lo's 6:00 softball game but I'd run with her after that. This did not make Miss George happy because, as she reminded me, it would be dark by the time I got back.
"We won't be able to see the snakes," said George.
"I'll carry a flashlight," I assured her, knowing the batteries were dead.
And indeed, it was getting dark when we began our run at 7:30 and pretty much pitch black by the time my OCD daughter untied and retied her shorts five times, relaced her shoes twice, pulled the heels of her socks tighter, and solved the complicated equation that determines whether I should run on her left side or her right.
She set the pace, which was unusually brisk, and I tried to hang in there as long as I could without complaining. About three minutes later, I said, "This is way faster than we normally go."
"Well, I'm a fat ass," she replied.
"You burn as many walking as you do running the same distance," I informed her, pretending she's not every bit the expert I am on all things calorie.
"Okay, but it's also dark and all Blair Witch Project out here. Not to mention the snakes. I keep hearing slithery noises.
"You act like our streets are infested with copperheads."
"Um," said George, "pretty much."
About this time, I had to block her with my arm to keep her from stepping on what was slowly crossing the road in front of us. Photo was shot with my camera phone. Not the best image, but you get the point: