That one time you came home from school crying dreadful bitter tears, making so much noise cos Beatrice said you like stuff for boys in front of friends, and now you were dying. Then you told her, “your new dress is stupid!” Before running away from the playground, I had to listen to this and stay sound, but you needed a mom, and I knew it, the next day we dressed you up real pretty, and I told you to act as sweet as pie that the Lord didn’t mind a pretty lie, Bea was the maddest girl in the city. So we told your dad one night making light, he said boys simply settled with a fight.