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Monday, June 1, 2009


I always tense up when I hear that.

This time it was please, please, please, could she go up with Ashley and her family to Whistler.

Now I should have just said, no, you don't have a passport, so no go, you'd be stuck at the border.

But instead I told her the real reason. My bad.

"I haven't even met Ashley's parents."

"Yes, you have."

"Doing sign language with her grandmother, who only speaks Filipino does not count. I have yet to meet her mom or dad, who somehow mysteriously pay the bills and make sure dinner's on the table, but I've yet to actually meet them in person."

"Dad has"

"Yeah, try again. He thought he was waving at Ashley's parents, and found out later it was another friend's parental units."

"What do you think is going to happen to me? Moooom!!"

"Jennifer, I'm not sending you 7 hours north, into another country (yeah, I know it's Canada, the other white meat), with people who don't even bother, rich tho they may be, to check out the parents dropping off or picking up their kid! Or for that matter even call to check us out."

Privately, I could just see phantom mom looking at two nice young men the girls just met, with Helter Skelter tattoed on their butts, and saying "oh, have a nice time." I didn't share this.

"I hate you." Pause. Wheels turning.

"I'm going to ask dad."

"Good luck with that."

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