Fifi started kindergarten in September and spent an afternoon in the principal’s office in the first week. I was so proud. Her teacher says, “Fifi, if you don’t do your work you’ll have to sit in the corner.” Fifi says, “Yeah, for how long?” She’s a prodigy. Thus, I was frigging overjoyed when Daria called me up to tell me Fifi had put down her crayons and uttered my name.
Daria: You should see this picture. It’s pink, pink, pink and pink. Pink dress, pink cake, no hair. Fifi says, “This is Auntie Ta at her wedding.”
Tata: I have never worn pink to a wedding.
Daria: You made us wear pink dresses to your first wedding.
Tata: …Proof that I spent 1987 and 1988 tragically underdrunk. That’s your fault, somehow. Had you tossed me in a bathtub and poured Blue Hawaiians down my gullet you might still be drycleaning recycled rice bag shifts with plunging necklines.
Daria: You’ll be pleased to know Fifi gave the original picture to her teacher as a gift because it’s so pretty.
Tata …But you’ll send this to my current husband if I don’t hand over a dozen stuffed artichokes by 5 p.m. tomorrow?
Daria: A pleasure doing business with you.