Oh Becca, you don't understand. I think my daughter might be a reincarnate from another era. The Phyllis Era, maybe. Fer reals. And in that era there was probably some little white kid, Alphalpha maybe, in a silent film, or a comic book, whose tag line was:
You can pick her soul off the shelf and dust it off is alls I'm sayin'. She's an oldie. But a goodie. (When she's not throwing tennis balls at the band.)
To be perfectly frank, and I wasn't going to mention this but, Phyllis is her favorite name. No lie, she asked me the other day, "Would it be weird if I named one of my kids Phyllis?"
"Very!" I said. "You might wanna stop beating the boys and throwing stuff at the band if you wanna catch a man who will agree to that."
Am I right, or am I right?
Speaking of which, she beat another boy on the varsity tennis team yesterday. Hope she doesn't try to date him too. Fingers crossed all these victories are helping her prepare for states tomorrow. Her first (and perhaps last) match is against the undefeated reigning number one first singles champion from the Salt Lake region. West High school. I understand they eat nails for breakfast at West high, but you didn't hear it from me.
But hey, I have other kids too, don't I? Raise your hand if it feels like my daughter is dominating my diaries!
I have sons too. Who are just as entertaining as my daughter. Although I don't think their souls are as dusty. I only say this because yesterday they were listing all the dumb things about middle school, like how you have to do a good job on your homework and everything, and how much everybody hates choir.
"I thought choir was supposed to be singing," said twin #1, "but you have to do stupid stuff too!!!"
"Like what?" I asked, as sincerely as humanly possible.
"Like get out of your comfort zone!"
Apparently that dumb choir teacher thinks getting out of their comfort zone will help them be better performers on stage.
Teachers these dayz!!