It was sunny yesterday, but when Jennifer arrived home, the temperature dropped by about 10 degrees, at least.
She'd had a bad day at v-ball camp, where she'd gotten placed (unfairly she thought) with the newbies who thought they were all that. Not quite the group she was in the mood for after entertaining the thought she might get on varsity this next year at last. (on this point, one of the coaches told her she'd really improved over the last year, and the trainer for the camp poo-hooed the idea that to be a successful v-ball player, you need to be tall. Really glad I shut my mouth and never voiced my earlier opinions to my 5-foot, 4-inch daughter at this point).
So, Thursday was a bit of a letdown after that. No praises and stuck with a bunch of snotty incoming freshmen. Then her b-friend called and wanted to talk, long and hard, about his birth mom coming back into his life (he thought she was dead from an OD long ago), and Jennifer's advice wasn't really what he wanted to hear.
Then I knocked over her drink, and told her "no, we can't get your foundation today."
So she harrumphed back to her room.
"What the hell was that?" Gary mumbled.
"A teenager having a bad day. Don't try to engage, I'll just take her to the gym and let her hit a punching bag for a while (which we did, and she did) so we don't have to be the standins"
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