I have been meaning to write something big and unimportant about the bizarre search terms people have used to pull up various articles from my website (predisastered.com). I’ve been sidetracked with other things – mainly Isobel’s five thousand school projects and Russell’s opening and moving and revising previously written works in hope they’ll appeal to people over eighty. By “people over eighty,” I mean “people who still subscribe to the paper.”

That can all wait for five minutes, though, because I have big news. Ready?

I can explain.

I’ll just quote Isobel directly:

“Mother, every day you exist just ruins my life that much more!”

This is a sign of successful parenting, I think. You might be wondering what I did that was so unthinkable, so I won’t leave you hanging. Here, I’ll let Isobel fill you in on that, too:

“I am NOT joining the Science Club at school. I won’t go! Nobody joins the Science Club.”

“But Bella, you’ll get a non-uniform day after each meeting.”

This was not a selling point. Standing out for her ultra-nerdiness wasn’t on par with her perceived image.

“Mom, do you remember fifth grade at all? I mean, AT ALL??!!!”

That’s when she disappeared into her room to tell her crawfish (yes, it really is still alive) how I have ruined her whole life.

During the eye of the hurricane, Russell appeared wearing a Mexican wrestling mask. I believe his thinking was that you can’t really hold on to blown-out-of-proportion anger when there’s a giant guy wearing a black and gold wrestling mask trying to reason with you.

She laughed. We talked. She’s doing the science thing even if it ruins her life, she says.

Thank you, Mexican Wrestling Mask. Thank you, Science Club. Thank you, God of Tweenliness. Thank you and good night.