Or Beverages Either

I drive Spencer to school every morning. Michael takes the bus, so he is not with us. On Monday, Spencer asked brightly, “What are you going to tell me about today?” Our conversations on the way to school have ranged from the presidential election, to the state of the economy, to the sale of the company where I work, to the plotline of the book I am currently reading, to name a few. But, now, under pressure, I crumbled. “Well,” I said lamely, “I’m going to lunch with Nichole today. I’m not sure yet where.” Inadequate. Pathetic. I knew this. But Spencer admonished me anyway, “Please (exasperated sigh) no stories about meals.”