It's been a busy week and I'm behind on a lot of things, but the most important thing on my calendar was the Mother's Day tea at my daughter's school. As documented on social media, the girl sometimes known as the TA styled me -- purple dress, fuchsia shoes, a rose gold necklace. She also directed me to paint my nails blue.
When a writer has a small child, touring is a mixed bag. I was out-of-town for three nights this week, have 2 gigs that keep me out past her bedtime and have to miss a chunk of Saturday afternoon. But over the course of the next three weeks, I'll be away only four more nights, tops. I'm very lucky that the team at Morrow figured out a way to maximize my appearances, setting up a schedule that has put me in front of 1,200-plus people already this week.
The TA became the TA because we prefer not to use her name in social media, or publish photos of her face. (After all, she wasn't able to give informed consent on joining this crazy family.) One morning, when she was 2 or so, I asked her if she wanted to re-enact a scene from The Godfather and help me sneak a very large stuffed giraffe into her father's bed. Despite never having seen The Godfather -- what, you thought otherwise? -- she was very enthusiastic. TA = Tiny Accomplice, although sometimes in my head, I think of her as the Tiny Assassin.
The other day, she was watching one of the old Star Wars movies, the one where not-yet-Darth-Vader is sent away to some school. (Sorry if I'm fuzzy on this. I'm not very good on 1, 2 and 3.) She came running downstairs in tears, asking that I pledge never to send her away to school and reminding me that I have already promised to go to college with her.
"Yes, I'll go to college with you," I said. "But you can change your mind later. I won't hold you to that promise."
"Mama, I'll never change my mind."
I wish that were true.