Daniel— usually the patient one— gritted his teeth. “Does she ever turn off?” he muttered
Daniel swiveled the wheel with one hand, making a nauseatingly wide turn. He swerved to avoid a hooded teen who ran across the street. “Lunatic,” he grumbled. “So. What are we hoping to achieve with this consultation?”
Classic Daniel, moving into male mode.
“I want to get a clearer picture of Shira’s difficulties.” I said, applying some MAC lipstick for resurrection purposes. “Right now, it’s one big jumble — attention, sensory, emotional, maybe learning disabilities? We have to pick apart the strands —”
“Mom, I see a truck! A tractor trailer! A police car! Mommy, are you LOOKING????” Shira cried.
I looked darkly at Husband. “Forget it. We can’t have a normal conversation now.”
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