I’m Not ‘Mrs. America.’ That’s the Point.
I was home schooling my 5-year-old daughter almost two weeks into our Covid-19-induced lockdown when our pug, Doug, suddenly began chasing his tail. “He’s bonkers,” I said.
“What does bonkers mean?” my daughter asked without looking up from her coloring. “Mad,” I said. “Mad,” she repeated to the half-finished mermaid in front of her.
Then she asked: “What does mad mean?” “Mad means you don’t make sense to anyone but yourself,” I replied. I had hurried past the word’s countless implications in the grown-up world, but she seemed to understand how it applied to our pug, locked in his own paranoid tail-chasing.… Seguir leyendo »