A mother and her daughter

My daughter has a habit now of rifling through our drawers to see if anything inside might be of use to her. One day she unearthed the bride and groom that stood atop our wedding cake. The groom was discarded but the bride has been placed on a shelf in her room among the plastic pink horses with girlishly long manes. This is a high compliment, I discern, though my daughter does not say so explicitly.

p 57 Dept. of Speculation, Jenny Offill

“What about me?” Her daughter likes to ask this when the conversation veers out of her comprhension.”What about me?” A chip off the old block, the wife thinks.

p122 Dept. of Speculation, Jenny Offill

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