The Chaff

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Thursday, September 11th, 2003

Prognostications

Parents constantly watch their children for clues fo talents and passions that might blossom into a career. “Ooh! She’s playing in the garden! She’ll be a biologist.” “Look at him take care of the sick dog–that’s a vet in the making.” “Hm…she’s tearing the wings off a fly–I should start her law school fund now….”

So Alex (that would be my daughter for those who haven’t heard me ramble about her) gets out of her bath, wraps her towel over her head like a shawl. Then in a scratchy voice, she started chanting:

“I’m an old lady, oh yeah.

Looking for my baby, oh yeah,

My baby in a graveyard, oh yeah.”

Good gods, she’s gonna grow up to be Sylvia Plath. Or maybe Marilyn Manson.

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