Stacy’s home again, this time for Memorial Day weekend. She says I only blog when she’s home. That’s not true, I want to tell her, but it is true; at least so far, that has been the case. How do I deny the written truth? (I could make a politician or lawyer joke here, but being as I have one of each in my close family, I think I’ll just move on, because neither of them deserve that kind of derogatory remark, though I know they have had to hear quite a few in their years of trying to live a good life helping others.)
Stacy is working on her “artificial intelligence computer class” project. I wish I could help her, but as soon as her projects stopped consisting of sugar cubes and glue, I’m afraid I have been left behind. Oh sure, I’m full of tidbits if she’s writing something, for example, always throw in a semi-colon if you want to impress your teacher, but you’d better learn how to use it correctly first. But now that she’s studying computers, I don’t even understand the names of the classes, never mind what they’re learning in them. As I glance over at her sitting on the opposite couch, eyes focused intently into her laptop, she still looks like the little girl who, just about a decade-and-a-half ago, looked just as intently into a “Little Golden Book.” The only difference is that back then she would have been sucking her thumb, no wait, she’s sucking her thumb now… just kidding. The only difference is that this time, I know she’s not going to head over here, climb up on my lap, and ask me to read it to her. Whew… pass me another sugar cube, and do we have another bottle of glue, this one’s running low. And no, I’m not making a snack, although it does have possibilities. (Don’t tell Dorothy I said that.)
