Where Everybody Knows Your Name

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The other day, I took my four-year-old daughter on a long-overdue “Mommy Date” to spend her birthday money at Ben Franklin. (Long-overdue because her birthday was in July, which is what happens when you’re the second child of four). After our shopping trip, we stopped by Otter Creek Bakery for cookies. As I stood at the counter to order, my daughter sat at a table playing happily with the unicorn figurine she’d just bought.

“Mommy,” she called to me across the VERY crowded bakery, “guess what? This unicorn’s a girl!”

“Really? That’s great!” I answered vaguely. The two older ladies at the next table beamed over at her.

“YES!” she yelled back, “I could tell because she doesn’t have a [insert term for male anatomy here]!”

The entire bakery went silent. Then the guffaws started and I thought – not for the first time – That’s it; now we have to move.

Continue reading in this week’s “Faith in Vermont” column in The Addison Independent.

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