This took a couple of months of planning, and while there are more traditional mother-daughter bonding activities, this was a great opportunity for me to see what she’s into, and realize how very far out of touch I am with youth culture.
If Bridget Jones were a real girl we’d be such good friends. We’d entertain each other with stories about stupid things we said that day and we’d commiserate over egomaniacal bosses and smug faux friends and Vile Richards.
On the way home I could not help think that if this were Texas, a dozen guys in boots and hats would have come out of the shadows to help me up. They’d dust off my hat and give Bella a rawhide treat while I composed myself.