Sempre, Sempre

When you are feeling under the weather, there are certain universal truths. One is burrowing into the covers and only occasionally peaking out to see how much of the morning has gone by. Another is the consumption of your favorite broth-based soup. And no less necessary is calling your mummsy.

This morning I at least got 2 out of 3. In my inability to properly read labels, I opened a cream-based soup, tentatively tried a nibble, and promptly gave the rest to O-ren. What I really want is hot and sour soup, and if somebody would be so kind as to fetch that for me, I'd be much obliged.

So I called mi momisita from the comforts of an ocean of warm covers. And like so many of our conversations, she waxes reminiscent on her favorite childhood Erin stories. (And although this picture is of me in 7th grade, it will have to suffice... I can't find any younger pictures of me right now.)

When you were still very young and in your car seat, you would always ask why-questions. We'd be driving into Jeff, and each why-question would build off the next until I couldn't answer them anymore. We'd often end up at the library in order to find answers that could satisfy you. You kept this up until you were probably about 11, and I think you only stopped then because I couldn't answer you anymore. But you were never satisfied having a simple answer; you always kept pushing until you understood it for yourself.

I remember when you started Kindergarten and I met Ms. Bunselmeyer for the first parent-teacher conference. She said that you wouldn't answer a question unless you were certain you were correct and that because she hadn't seen you make a mistake yet, she was worried how you would deal with that.

And listening to Mum tell me this story makes me think about my current M.O. I look at every corner of my life and find that I haven't changed at all, except to perhaps become more demanding of myself. What would Ms. Bunselmeyer say if she knew how I'm dealing with my inability to be perfect?