Cheering Children

Confrontation. I hate confrontation. Probably more than anything else in the world, except combovers, I hate confrontation.

Today, after getting sick to my stomach in anticipation, I called the painter and told him I wanted him to redo the kitchen from almost-white-blue to almost-white-gray. Okay, so I told his answering machine. (Whew!) But I did it.

And the other day with the plumber, I told him I wasn't going to be sticking my hand in the ground past imaginary rattlesnakes every time I needed to fill the pool.

My sons and DIL, when they read this, will be cheering. Mom's finally getting a backbone.

(But that doesn't lessen my hatred for confrontation.)