Who, me?

In real life, I am the mom you see dragging a wagon with two passengers—one, a chatterbox, the other, a demolition ball (who, at the moment, resembles a sweet, sticky, and cuddly boy pointing at the construction trucks nearby) as we walk our way to school. At first glance, I do not, in any way, embody kookiness or any of its affiliations. Of course this is my disguise. I slip among the normal beings, undetected and unnoticed in my dark denim wash, ballet flats, and chocolate cardigan. Very un-kooky. After all, I cannot risk my children’s social lives by appearing to be someone that all the other moms pretend to not see. Selfishness is not one of my virtues.