Eight

Tonight I went to watch my mom perform.   She's in a play.

She had to leave earlier than me and Dad.   I went down to say good-bye to her.   Why?  Because I'm nice.

She looked at the dress I was wearing and sighed.

I should have just ignored that sigh, but I didn't.

"What?"

"Oh…nothing."

I had the willpower to ignore her nothing.  "Okay," I said.

She wouldn't let it go.

"Well, I just thought you'd want to wear something cute."

I didn't say anything.   What can you say to something like that?

"It makes you look kind of big."

I didn't change my clothes.   I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.  But all night I worried that I looked ugly.

My mom did great with her acting, which was a disappointment.   I was so mad at her.   I wanted her to mess up.   I wanted her to flub her lines or trip on the stage.  I wanted her to be overdramatic or drastically underdramatic.

After the show she was surrounded by people praising her.  My dad was one of them.   He followed her around like a puppy dog; and when he couldn't get close to her he bragged to others that she's his wife.

My mom pretty much ignored him.  She was too busy getting love from everyone else.

She ignored me too.  

I don't care.  

Why should I?