That would be my daughter, Maggie, as she leaves the room.
Like a jet plane with a trail of exhaust.
The burp was bad enough. Well, I don’t really think so. I sort of like that Maggie enjoys a good burp. She’s like a guy that way. It does, however, drive Lisa a little crazy. As far as I can tell, my wife does not release gas of any kind, ever. At least not publicly. No farts, no burps.
One day, I’m sure, she’s just going to float off into the sky like a helium balloon.
So, okay, Maggie burped. It happens. But it was what came next that’s so wonderfully my daughter. “Oh yeah,” she said, taking pleasure and satisfaction in the good belch.
Lisa looked me like it was my fault, shook her head. So I called after Maggie with something like, “Say ‘Excuse me,’ please.” Just to let Lisa know that I was on the ball and I was keeping standards sky high. But Maggie was gone, off the grab another late-night bowl of cereal (she eats constantly).
I have to admit it. I like that my sixth-grade daughter burps. But let’s keep it between us.
Oh, one more thing. Another little habit of Maggie’s, which I attribute to middle school awkwardness, is she now sabotages every photograph we try to take. She’s lovely and beautiful and we have tons of great pictures. But not from the past year.
First, here’s some sweet ones. I have to confess, I’m home working today while Lisa and the kids are off for a couple days, skiing and having fun. I miss them.
Nowadays, alas, this is what we get. A nice father-daughter shot, ruined by . . . the face.
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