Enough to Miss Christmas

"Ugh! Why did you look?"

"Out of curiosity."

"But I can't."

"No, not at your present age. Perhaps in a year or so we can discuss it further, just so you know what filth is out there and what to ignore."

"I don't think I'd even want to see it!"

"That's even better. Remember, acquiring knowledge about anything isn't a problem. It's what you do with the knowledge that counts"

Karen utilized the computer extensively, eager to learn about the world. She researched constantly with each answer prompting more questions in her incredibly active mind. Her reservoir of trivia astounded us. We've found no instances where she violated the bounds we'd established. I'm not sure her reason was her religious education, or moral values, or maybe the knowledge we'd forbid her access to the internet if she violated our trust. In any event, I was grateful for her restraint. It was more than I would have exhibited at her age.

I don't mean to say there were a few small thorns in our bed of proverbial roses. I pointed out early that underwear would no longer be pressed and clothes didn't automatically move from the dirty clothes hamper to the bureau drawer. The dry cleaner didn't pick up, or deliver at our house and dirty dishes needed attention, even when the head washer was exhausted from a day of running errands. Woof wasn't just saying his name; he had to go! Nevertheless, I love my new life and all of its minor tribulations. My wards are trying harder than I ever expected.

Surprisingly, and thankfully, Karen performs her share of the work like a trouper. She has abided by everything as agreed to in our pre-marital commitment. While her moods swing like a metronome, she completes her tasks without complaint. I praise her to the hilt and most times she seems delighted with my company and is chatty and companionable. To a stranger, she acts like a daughter, but she and I know secretly something deep inside her holds her back from exhibiting true affection. She often tests our relationship with a surly attitude, and sometimes I'm forced to bite my tongue. And always, she wants to know how my mother would handle any given situation.

Timmy calls me  Mom" and hugs me as naturally as if I'd been in his life forever. To Karen I remain Sarah. I'm treated politely, but I sense as minimally as necessary to abide by our agreement and to not incur the displeasure of her father. I bite my tongue to not let her apparent lack of full acceptance depress me, though at times it does.