Me: I really miss you. I wish I saw you more than two hours a day.
The Ogre: I know. I miss you too. But somebody has to figure out how to bring the rain.
Me: No offense, babe, but unless you’re Yvor Winters, I can’t see much rainmaking happening in the scintillating field of literary criticism. I’m under no illusions that I’m really the rainmaker in this family. All I have to do is abandon all scruples and write a crap teen lit bestseller.
***3 days later***
The Ogre: Something came for you today.
The Ogre: It’s an investment in our future, Rainmaker. No streaming television allowed.
My new precious shall allow me to ignore my children so much more effectively than before. Watch out, Stephanie Myers. My poor grasp of grammar and second-rate imagination should have the teen lit world saying “Bella who?” before the decade is out. Game. On.