Electric Grandmother

Maggie Croft's Personal Journal young spirit, wire-wrapped
spark electric grandmother
arc against the night

-- Lon Prater
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in which we discover that patience pays off

This morning, on his way to the shower, Avadore tells me, "You're jar jar." Of course, being the product of my culture, I automatically believe my child has told me I'm Jar Jar, which, of course, could be the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.

But I'm a mother, I'm the child of my own mother -- I have patience. Also, AFAIK, Avadore has never run into Jar Jar. (Maybe at school -- maybe it's an insult among the preschool set -- but let's dig a little first.)

"I'm Jar Jar?" I ask.

"No," he says. "You're a jar jar." He starts to move his hands in a circular motion. "You throw balls and things like this." He continues to make the motion with his hands and arms. Of course. A juggler.

"I'm a juggler?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "You're a jar jar."

"You have no idea how right you are," I say, and I turn on the shower.

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