Page 209 of You've Got Hate Mail
I shake my head. “No TVs in bedrooms.”
“But Ginny does it.”
“The fun thing about being an adult is that the only rules are to drive the speed limit, don’t steal, don’t murder, and pay your taxes,” Cricket says. “After that, you get to make your own rules. Ginny’s rules can be different from your dad’s rules. And when you’re a grown-up, you get to make your own rules too.”
“Being a grown-up is hard. I don’t want to do it.”
“I like being a grown-up,” Cricket tells her.
“But you don’t act like a grown-up.”
“That’s because I have a rule against it.”
Lav’s lips part, and then she takes another bite of her sandwich while she squints across the kitchen like she’s pondering grown-ups having rules against being grown-ups.
After two bites, she looks back at Cricket. “If you’re my dad’s girlfriend, does that mean you can help read me bedtime stories?”
“I can help read you bedtime stories whether or not I’m your dad’s girlfriend.”
Lav shakes her head. “I just don’t understand why you’d subject yourself to being a girlfriend. Boys are gross. No offense, Dad.”
Why you’d subject yourself?
Is she almost seven or almost seventeen?
“None taken,” I tell her.
“You’re not going to ask me to help write poems for Cricket, are you?” she asks.
“I will handle all poetry duty myself.”
“I don’t want to read them either.”
“I will not ask you to read them.”
“He’s really bad at poetry,” Lav says to Cricket. “He thoughthomerhymed withghost.”
“Poetry has as few rules as being an adult does,” Cricket says. “Sometimes close is good enough. Does your dad write a lot of poetry?”
“No, he mostly cusses when I tell him I need help with it.”
“What kind of cussing?”
“The normal kind. With the d-word.”
Cricket grins at me. “Not the d-word.”
“Yeah.” Lav nods. “He saysdang itwhen I have to make poems.”
“Do you ever write poems about dragons?”
Lav’s eyes go round like it hasn’t occurred to her. “Hold my dessert. I have to go write a poem.”
She slides off her stool and runs down the hall toward her room, scaring the cat, who yowls and darts into the living room.
The good news?
Fluffy’s a little less fluffy this week.
