Outed

Yesterday I felt comfortable enough to go to the office and leave mom home with Wee One.

Now, those two are a dangerous combination.

Sometime during the day, Wee One got on my laptop and showed my mother how to use it. Remember, she will be five in December. She even knows how to access the internet. (Before anyone cringes, I have it set up where she can only access sites I have pre-approved.)

Apparently, she revealed I had a website, but confessed she did not know how to get to it.

When I got home, mom asked me about it and I showed it to her. I told her I had been writing stories about her and she insisted I read them to her. I also shared the comments.

She was absolutely delighted.

Shortly after I stumbled out of bed this morning, I found my mother on my laptop trying to get back to this place. She said she wanted to read the stories again, particularly the comments.

I showed her what bookmarks were, how to navigate, and access the comments. She kept asking if there were other stories out there. I then showed her the old site and pulled up a few more of the stories about her.

She read, laughed, and read some more.

After my shower she handed me a piece of paper with hastily scribbled notes all over it. She said: "Here, you have to write these stories now."

Then she added: "I wish I could write and spell better, I would like to write some stories of my own and see what your friends would say."

Bless her.

We are now gearing up to head to San Antonio is search of Asian grocers. I advised that Asians make up less than four percent of the demographic population, but she asserted: "I know there are more slang-eyes like me around here."