The Tranny

Recently there's been some discussion of me going back to work. It's not necessarily that there's anything solid to bank on, but with the way the girls process things, they do better if they are prepared for such events ahead of time. At the time of the discussion, however, the girls acted really silly about it. They cracked jokes, and flitted around like ballerina-clowns on crack.

"Do you understand what we're saying, girls?" Ash asked.

"Oh ya, mommy! Whoopty hoopty doo!"

Ash I just looked at one another and shrugged. Still, we knew in a few days, the concept of me working again would sink into their tiny, sugar-frosted brains.

Yesterday, while sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office, the idea took hold in 6 year-old Avery's noggin. She had been playing with some mega-blocks found in the corner reserved for kids, and right in the middle of building a huge tower, she stopped mid-construction. I watched her walk up and set herself down on the couch next to me.

"Yes?" I asked, knowing by the look on her face that something was on her mind.

"Ron, if mommy's at work, and you gots to go to work, who's going to take care of us?"

I smiled and reassured her that we would work something out for her and her sister, although in the back of my brain I wasn't quite sure what the 100% solution would be. Then I added half-jokingly, "Maybe we'll get a nanny." But something about what I said must have gotten garbled in the transmission.

Her face twisted in confusion. "A tranny? What's a tranny?"

I wonder if Mrs. Doubtfire is still available?


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