Call me Sophie

So how do you choose between your children?

Fortunately, this wasn’t life or death. I finally got all the babysitting arrangements, time off work and mortgage loan to pay for gas (just kidding. kind of.) arranged, so we could go see B when she came to Toronto, much closer for us than her gig out West.  We hadn’t seen her since 2007, and never know for sure when we will see her again. So we had to go, right?

I was discussing with B how great it would be to see her, etc., when she drops the bomb.

“You know that’s the day K graduates, right?

*blink*  “What?”

Um, no I didn’t know that. And wouldn’t it have been great for K to point that out when I saw her two weeks ago…. *sigh*

B continues very sweetly, “So I’d totally understand if you wanted to go see her instead. I mean, I’m always the one who thinks of others first.”  She gave an evil laugh. “Now which one of us do you love more?”


Now, last year, I drove to Iowa to see M and the grands, when they traveled from the Seattle area. I really do try to see any of the girls whenever I can, as long as it doesn’t involve getting on an airplane. So. What to do, what to do… I call K.

“Oh, yeah, they just told us about that. Sorry.  You don’t have to come. I’d understand if you wanted to go see B instead. Actually, I’d rather go see B than go to graduation.”

But it’s the hat thing.

She was moving up at culinary school from her “grasshopper” student cap to a Hat. She’s been accepted for the advanced year of baking classes next year, so there’s still her externship at the Biltmore in Asheville (which she’s very proud of snagging) and another ceremony when she finishes.  But… the Hat.

They both got great joy from tormenting me about the situation. I asked advice from any number of people, my hairdresser, my secretary, even the Cabana Boy. (He was one of the steadfast graduation votees.) Eventually K herself convinced me it was fine to take the Toronto trip. Her father had agreed to attend the ceremony, and one of her best friends promised to come dressed like me, armed with a camera and the appropriate proud tears.

So we did Toronto, which as you see, was lovely. K came home the following week with pictures and tales of how her chef-professors find her to be as engaging, witty and competent as we always have. And we indeed have a picture of K…and the Hat.  Bon appetit, all!

The Hat, the woman, the myth, the legend...

The Hat, the woman, the myth, the legend...

5 thoughts on “Call me Sophie

  1. All is well. They really didn’t tell us the date until like a week before I told you. They suck. But next year will be better.

  2. I dread the day. Hopefully when it comes, my girls will be as “nice” about it. (And someone will tell me what to do, because I know there is no way I will be able to choose.)

    And she looks MAHVELOUS in the hat!

  3. OK I was waiting to hear what this was all about. Good ending. What’s with the airplane? Did I miss something? Fear of flying? Too much stress, baloney, malarkey involved?

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