26 February 1995

by jkatejohnston

Dear Max,

Last night I had to do my reading for class instead of pay attention to Teresa. She was very difficult, in a funny way. I offered to read to her and she took me up on it, and then I decided to read to myself because it’s faster. I offered to let her put her hand down my pants while I read.

“No!  You think I need a pacifier!”

“Oh, sweetheart, what would make you happy?”

“Nothing but your full and undivided attention.”

“Well, you can’t have that.” So I read and she flopped down on the bed and sighed and made little noises of discontent.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“I’m being difficult!”

“I know you are.” After a long time she was nearly asleep and I thought I’d done enough homework for one week. I leaned down. “Give me a kiss.” She stuck her lips out. I kissed them. “Give me another.” She stuck her lips out again. “You’re a sleepy head. You had a big day.”  (We had gone out to breakfast and to the movies.)

“It’s not easy being difficult,” she said.


 

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