Following in the great story that was German camp…..
The goose is doing French club after school. Since the beginning of time there are parties for Christmas in these clubs. Gone are the days of the bush Noel. That would be a simple recipe. Involving MAYBE 3 dirty dishes and ingredients that we have in the pantry. Not my kid. The goose chose to make a fresh berry tart. Said tart with made from scratch crust covered in a layer of chocolate and a layer of from scratch creme.
After she reminded me at 5:00 to get her ingredients she was off. I got home from dinner with a friend to find that the kitchen had vomited the history of a tart making. After much negotiation it was determined that I would drop the tarts (yes two because this is where she is like me. We MUST make sure there is enough for everyone….to have thirds) at school at 2:15.
I do as I am told and arrive promptly at the agreed upon time only to find that she is still taking a test. Yeah, school hasn’t ended yet. It’s the middle of the school year and she still doesn’t know when school ends.
I sigh and wait.
She comes to the office:
Just to paint the picture, thanks to school shootings you don’t walk into the office. You walk into a foyer with a window that has a pane of what is probably bulletproof glass that slides over like at an inner city gas station. The counter is so high I have to stand on my tip toes to be seen.
I’m at my window. The school secretary is in her enclosed cube. The goose is on the other side of the cube in the office proper. The goose and I negotiate how she will get the two tarts to her classroom upstairs. This is as laborious as NATO peace talks. Much to the enjoyment of the secretary. The talks consists of me repeating my demands and the goose saying “wait, what?”
Finally say: you. stay. I get tart one. You go. I get tart two. you go.
In between tarts the secretary gives me a look like this is priceless. It’s only then that I realize not all conversations between mother and daughter go this way. As a way of explaining I say, “she’s creative.”
Proof of this point is that she texts me to say that everyone says how pretty the tarts are. That they took a picture and put it on the Facebook page.
I wait for club to be over. She comes out with one whole tart and a quarter of the other….yep she’s my kid