Well, Tony Robles said (in the nicest possible way that it could be said but damn, Tony!) this would happen once I turned forty: he said I would become "old and irrelevant." And so it has come to pass.
Lea had a playdate today here at our house. They needed me to make lunch for them, of course.
And then they never needed me again.
*drag wasted body across the floor*
There was a time when my cheeful, guiding presence was absolutely required during a playdate. I had to oversee art projects, take my place at the tea party, engineer a fort, read a story, help ease the way through misunderstandings. Well, no more. In fact, when I went upstairs to check on Lea and her friend, they looked up briefly from their world o' dolls and stuffed animals and said, "We're great!"
Translation: take a hike, old lady.
I then retreated half-heartedly into The House of the Spirits where Esteban Trueba, angered by the illicit love affair between his daughter Blanca and the peasant Pedro Tercero Garcia, beats his wife Clara until all her teeth fell out. *more weeping*
**This upbeat ditty was sometimes jokingly sung by my mother during times of...what? Um, Mom? Why did you sing this?