I have long, straight, super-fine hair. When I was a kid, it would often get tangled and I didn’t like to brush it. So my mom would brush it for me, yanking the brush through the rat’s nest knot. “Ow, quit yanking,” I would say with tears streaming down my face. “That didn’t hurt.” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that phrase, I could buy a small mansion.
OK, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I did hear it a lot. Sometimes I still do, or variations of it. A Lack of Understanding Several years ago, my sister and I visited an aunt and cousins in Texas.
We got to meet one cousin’s grandkids who lived with him. The impish face of one granddaughter was adorable. I so wanted to play this game she’d made up. “Hold these,” she
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