I'm not worthy.

In the car:

DS: DD, what’s the matter with you? Are you DYING?!!
DD: Noooo.
DS: Well then why do you have your hand over your heart like that?
DD: We passed a flag back at the toll booth.
DS: Are you pledging your allegiance?
DD: No, just showing my respect.

Later that day at the beach:

DD: Is that a recycling bin over there?
Bourgeois Mom: No, honey that’s the trash. Recycling bins are blue, but I don’t see one. It’s OK to throw it out. Oh, look, here’s lunch.


DD picks her pony-sized plastic Snapple bottle up and treks off across the sand. She soon disappears from sight.


Ten minutes later, I am 4/5ths of the way through my bourgeois lunch of grilled vegetable quesadilla and $6.50 smoothie, with protein power pack. DD reappears through the hordes.

Grandma: DD, did you go to [two towns southward] to find a recycling bin?
The BP: Damn, I would’ve tossed that thing in the ocean halfway into it.

DD sets her 10-year old bottom down in her beach chair, minus recycling, and quietly unwraps her lunch.