Yesterday, the neighborhood children run in and out of my house, delighting in the unseasonably warm weather. Some are barefoot and trying to skate on the melting ice, and others are running frenzied circles around the tree. One of my daughters has mud splashed up her legs. One child has found the cat brush and attempts to brush her own hair with it!
"Everybody stop!" I cry. "A mother I haven't met yet is bringing her daughter to play, so could everybody just act normal? I don't want this mother to think we are all crazy wild animals around here!"
One little girl stops running and looks at me with a deep serious shake of her head. She says, "Mrs. Holleman, we shouldn't even bother. She's going to find out the truth anyway."
I burst out laughing, and suddenly, the wild scene in my front yard becomes a source of comical, wonderful joy.
She's right. Why fake it? Living with flair means I don't put on a show. I don't bother; you're going to learn the truth anyway. That poor mother might not ever return, but at least she knows the real me.
Here's to being real in February!