Delia and Naomi and I are in the car. Naomi, who can't seem to stop talking ever, is going on about how mean her sister is to her. I try not to encourage the kids to talk smack about each other, so I interject.
"It is pretty normal for sisters to not get along at your age." I say. "When your mom and I were fourteen, we did everything we possibly could to ditch our sisters. It didn't seem mean at the time, but I bet they thought we were total jerks back then."
I park, and we are all walking down the street to the house, one girl on each side of me.
"Mom and Aunt Mindy are, like, Best Friends." Naomi says, looking at me cockeyed, as if I am making it all up.
Delia turns to me in slow motion, a look of incredulity on her face, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Why would you ditch Aunt Trisha? She is AWESOME!"
"I guess I didn't realize that when I was 14." I reply.
All the way up to the front door, Delia keeps looking askance at me and then shaking her head, as if she can't believe I was ever so dumb.