A Woman of Many Talents

Mom couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she drove in to work this morning.

“Good morning!” she genially greeted the security guards at the front desk. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“I love your shoes!” she said to the first woman who passed by.

“Your children are adorable!” she said next to her surly neighbor, the one who’s been sitting next to her for the last six months and hasn’t made eye contact even once. “And what a cute iguana!” she gushed, her gaze falling on the family and pet photographs lining his cluttered desk.

Mom spent the rest of the morning throwing random compliments at passers-by, her smile firmly in place. Feeling rather buoyant and social, she toyed with the idea of reaching out to certain family members she hadn’t bothered to call in the last 10 years. “Maybe I should throw a dinner party this weekend and invite the 12 couples, 19.5 children and 1 bachelor I know,” she enthused, in her current state of bliss.

The warm, sunny day outside reflected her mood. Nothing was going to dampen her day - not even the impatient guy who honked at her and showed her his middle finger as she pulled in to work.

The woman was on top of the world. You see, dad had paid her a compliment. That’s an occurrence that’s rarer than a blue moon; more precious than all the jewels of Arabia; more exhilarating than being on despipundit; certainly much more newsworthy than the birth of Baby Suri.

“Sometimes you never see it coming,” thought mom, shaking her head perkily like Meg Ryan. The day had started off in a routine fashion as she rushed about to get the kids ready, comb her hair, pack everybody’s lunch, find her car keys and get the family out the door in five minutes flat.

“I’m late,” she yelled, as her sleepy little princess threw her matinal “I-want-a pink-shirt-not-a-boo/lello/wed/owange-shirt” tantrum.

"The kids really need to go to bed a lot sooner,” observed dad, standing by the door jiggling his car keys. “You should make them sleep by 9.”

Mom brought it to dad’s attention that she usually has a full schedule what with making dinner, feeding the children, loading the dishwasher, walking the dog, bathing the kids and putting them to bed.

“The only way I can get the kids to bed five minutes earlier is if I skip dinner,” said mom, flushing indignantly.

Dad paused at the doorway and turned around. The mild rays of the morning sun fell on mom’s brown hair and framed her delicate face. Her limpid-pool eyes and rosebud mouth quivered under his gaze, while her soft bosom rose gently beneath her gauzy shirt.

Dad took a slow step toward mom. She held her breath in anticipation.

“You know, you’re really good at making excuses,” he said, turning around and heading out the door.