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272 pages, Paperback
Published May 15, 2018
I see the ad early in the day, when I'm taking a coffee break between the Skee-Ball lanes. A Frankie's Funhouse eighty kilometres out of Chicago is converting a Nifty Trio Set to Digital One. They've got an old Franny Feathers, my daughter Starr's favourite character, in Urban Cowgirl costume, as is. Hasn't worked right since the Spooky Good Time show was loaded in last Halloween.
It always comes back to the same complaint, our fights. That I'm too indulgent with one, not tender enough with the other. As if Kath's manner is the yardstick of parental involvement.
That's how Kath always sees our role as parents – to inoculate Starr against the difficulties of living. Prepare her for when we are no longer around. But while I'm still here, I don't want to limit her special treatment. I want Starr to have the best version of life she can imagine. Our daughter struggles enough.
Melly asks me not to call her that anymore. She's Melanie now, Lainey to her husband and co-workers. Says it with such emphasis that I feel accused, as if I'd coached the other kids to call her Smelly Melly Ding-Dong.