Nobody I know...

I'm reading Little Children by Tom Perrotta, the guy who wrote Election. He writes, "The young mothers were telling each other how tired they were. This was one of their favorite topics, along with the eating, sleeping, and defecating habits of their offspring, the merits of certain local nursery schools, and the difficulty of sticking to an exercise routing. Smiling politely to mask a familiar feeling of desperation, Sarah reminded herself to think like an anthropologist: I'm a researcher studying the behavior of boring suburban women. I am not a boring suburban woman myself."
Oh dear...cuts a wee bit close to home, that.
Sarah rescues herself with a red bikini and an affair with a guy called The Prom King. Not me. I'll never wear a bikini again. But I am thinking of buying a new bathing suit from Boden. Blue meadow? Or Midnight Bubbles?

And, a real conversation with Lucy:
"Lucy-lu, what do you think, should we go pick up Daddy at the office?"
"He sleeping."
"No, he's working -- at the office."
"No, he sleeping!"
"At the office?"
"YESSSSS."
"Um, no, he works at the office..."
"NO! SHHHHUSH! Listen to me! TIME OUT!"
Silence.
Well, I think, good for him.