Nora needs to start kindergarten. I mean, there's such a thing as too much fun with a whoopi cushion. Together my daughter and I logged in a lot of time with one today and it is with pure delight and admiration that I admit her technique for inflating one is superior to my own. We're now the proud owners of two of them thanks to the clarity of mind that must have possessed our friends. I can picture them striding through the aisles of Party City, when one notices a glowing pile of orange whoopi cushions, deflated and inconspicuous, triggering an aha moment as they both say, "yes, whoopi cushions, our search for party favors is over". Nora and I tried to out-do each other while showboating our flare for farting. Of course, she didn't realize she was in the presence of a master (and I never used to use props). When you spend 85 waking hours a week in the world of a 5-year-old, and she in yours, there's bound to be some cross-over. On any given day, for example, we're both likely to have a tantrum or two. The difference is that the one I'm having is invisible. As luck would have it, kindergarten is a mere season away. But thanks to half day kindergarten, I'll still get to enjoy 71 hours a week in the wacky, wonderful world of the under six set.
