When she read the post about her called Attila, my daughter, she pulled her head back in shock, opened her mouth, wrinkled her brow all the way down to her nose and said, "What the crap?!"
Even her little brother got the reference.
For the record, her real name is Kelsi. And yes, she can be a tough cookie on the outside, but her inside is more like a marshmallow. Case in point:
"Hmm," I said, "I got up extra early to help someone with geometry and she didn't get out of bed until an hour after she said she would." I flashed a look her way.
"Yeah, I just couldn't get up."
"Didn't sleep much the night before, did you?"
"I only slept from 2:30 until 5:30."
"You were awake until 2:30?"
"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep."
"I don't know,". . . (grand pause). . . "Couldn't be all the pop and chips and junk in the office for Keygan's graduation party." She waved her hands in the air, shook her head and snuck in an eye roll.
"That bothers you?"
"Yeah," said with her best you-must-be-an-idiot tone.
"Honey, he'll still be living here after graduation. He'll be here all summer."
It was not much comfort. She's gotten really tight with her older brother this year they've shared in high school. A few months ago she told me, "It's gonna suck when he graduates," and I was pleasantly surprised, but I was shocked when she confessed, "He's like my best friend, Mom."
Awww! She truly loves her brother. Attila, don't-touch-me, queen of attitude, has a soft spot.
I see right through you, babe. You're as tenderhearted and sentimental as anybody. Inside your tough exterior is a loving and devoted young woman.
Of course her response to all that would be, "Yeah, right, whatever, pssht."
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