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Becoming Jerry
March 26, 2007My bones tell me this is going to be another stressful week. I've no doubt the powers-that-be will try to stuff as much work as they can into what's left of our working week before we leave our cubicles, in memory of Jesus' death and suffering. Then, there's the office-wide rearrangement. We're sectioning off portions of the office, and all the noise and the haggling over the price and the construction schedule are making me dizzy. It made me so dizzy, in fact, that my daughter's request had me laughing for only five minutes, instead of at least thirty. My daughter, A, has decided she wants to be called Jerry. Starting today.
So now I am under tremendous pressure. First, I have to cram work good for two weeks into 8.5 working days, and second, I have to remember that I now have a daughter named Jerry.
Me: Alex, you didn't turn the TV and the fan off. Go back to our room and turn them off!
Alex: (Silence)
Me: Alex, did you hear me?
Alex: (glaring at me) Ma, di ko Alex. Jerry lagi ko! (Ma, I'm not Alex. I'm Jerry.)
Me: (Silence - Dear God, I asked you for a child, not a feisty little person.) Okay, Jerry. Turn the TV and the fan off.
Alex: Ohkay. (laughing happily) Si Jerry ko ma? Si Jerry ko. (I'm Jerry, aren't I, ma? I'm Jerry.)
Oh, and in case you're wondering who this Jerry Alex has named herself after is, it's that little mouse that a cat named Tom likes to clobber and pulverize. God help me. What have kids these days become? When I was three, I was a sweetheart. I didn't glare at my parents, or ask them to call me Vicenta or Ramon. I settled for crayola-ing our walls.
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