p.s.

oh oh oh. and then there’s this. walking to the park the other day, we pass a house that looks like it's hosting a yard sale. or a circus. the kids and i are tired, sweaty, because the park is not around the corner (as i’ve told them), but fifty miles away. a woman comes tearing towards us, screams: ARE YOU READY??! ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?! we stare at her. she’s not even looking at me, but shouting things like, YEAH, ALRIGHT! at the children. she whisks us to the backyard. i think she’s the pushiest yardsaleswoman i’ve ever seen. am trying to stifle my indignation and politely back us all out.

then. i realize two things: we’re on a movie set. and i’m somehow wearing two skirts. they think the children are the two mini-actors they’ve been waiting for, and i’m thinking i clearly put another skirt on over the other without taking the other off.

they want the children. even after i explain there’s a mistake. they want them even after we leave. they come running after saying it’s perfect anyhow, they NEED Spanish kids especially. from Indonesia? even better! we swap information. me and the 3 producers. they give me dvds, cards, websites. they’re legit, a sincere and eager squad funded by the dept of education. they’ve called to follow up. they've called to ask if we could do it on monday morning (no, dept of education, it's a school day). they've called again for a complete schedule. we’re going to be rich and famous. i’m going to be a way better manager than jessica simpson's dad. i'm going to be the best showbiz mom ever.