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This Wonderful Life

February 13, 2009

This Wonderful Life

The imperfections make it better



Once a week, on Fridays, Bee has homework.



Just a few weeks into the school year, she figured out that the most efficient and reliable way to ensure that she remembered to do it was to do it immediately after she got home from school on Fridays.



Bee makes her bed (almost) every morning. She is the only member of the household who does that. She knows how to scramble an egg, braid her hair and feed the pets.



In short, she knows how to get things done, and how to get them done right. The operable word there is ``right.’’



Bee was born a person who knows How Things Should Be Done. We were blessed, when we traveled to China for her adoption, to have met the woman who cared for her for the first 12 months of her life. She told us when we met her that Bee ``made me go to the store to get her candy every day, even if it was raining.’’



So, not only does she know How Things Should Be Done, she also knows how to work a less-thanideal situation to her advantage. She says she wants to be a teacher when she grows up, but we call her, lovingly, Our Little CEO.



A possibly bright career track is the upside of being able to see the straightest path from A to B. The darker, more anguishing side is a tendency for perfectionism.



There is nothing quite as frustrating as being able to conceive in crystal detail the way something should work, and yet being utterly helpless to make it happen that way.



It would be like watching helplessly as your tonedeaf mother auditioned for ``American Idol’’ in a tube top and parachute pants. Maddening. Utterly, unspeakably maddening.

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This Wonderful Life
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    November 25, 2009

  • This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.

    November 19, 2009

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    November 5, 2009

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    October 2, 2009

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    September 24, 2009

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    September 17, 2009

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