Childhood Memories

This has been a bad couple of late-night days for me--getting home around 11 pm.

So I was telling my friend Claire at work about my conversation with Lo this morning:

TR: Lola told me she HATES it when I'm not home at night, because her dad is the "worst putter-to-bedder ever." She said he just THROWS the covers on top of her in a big pile. You know, I carefully spread each of the five blankets in the particular order she likes them stacked. You'd think he could handle something so simple…

Claire: I used to LOVE when my dad tucked me in. He always read to me--Rudyard Kipling--in voice: …till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees…It was great.

TR: Really, Claire?! That's so sweet. My dad used to come into my room trashed, throw himself on my feet, and cry.    


Claire: ...        ...          ...


TR: My work here is done.