I’ve been trying all morning to put down some thoughts about New Orleans, but as is often the curse of the single parent, I find myself face to face with my child’s incessant talking. I put on a sweatshirt and tried thinking outside, but he followed me there. I moved back inside when I thought he wasn’t looking. No good. I pretended we were going to do house chores. No way. I couldn’t shake him.
So, if you’ve been waiting around for me to explain the nature of people, I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a wait. Distracting a nine year old is harder work than you can imagine. If you have one, you already know this. Think of it this way - there’s a nine year old right now at this very minute, dragging along behind his parents down in New Orleans, wading through the water, dogging looters and dead bodies and who knows what else, whining about the fact that no one is playing with him. You can bet on it. Trust me.