Danny and Sandy
For some reason, it’s hard for Daddy to pull together a competent ponytail on just a random weekday. But, on the fiftieth day of kindergarten, already running late, Cory’s hair an inch and a half shorter, with layers, it’s near impossible. Then…
C: Daddy! You forgot my “C”!
D: Your what? Cory, we need to…
C (patting her heart): But, my “C”…
Daddy grabs the package of monograms. Sandy and Danny help find the cursive “C”. Daddy struggles to peel off the backing.
D: Hey, Zuko, can you find my glasses?
F: Oh! Sure!
Daddy keeps picking at the backing with glasses on. What’s wrong? Arrrr! Daddy walks over and, you know, actually looks at the package, which advertises “Iron-on Monograms.” Ah, crap. Finding the iron is a feat, since, um, no one ever irons anything in this house. Daddy pulls Cory’s dress off, wrecking the ponytail, and irons a ripped up “C” on it. Back over the head. A new ponytail, twice as stressful as the first.
F (on the way to school): Is Grease fifties time?
D: Yes, silly. Danny and Sandy are from the fifties.
F: Go, Grease Lightning, you earnin’ a [garbled]! (Pause.) Daddy, can you do me a favor?
F (pointing): Can you wipe my neck? Something is wet. The grease lightning is running down.
D (smiling): I guess you can have too much grease lightning, huh?
C: Daddy, why are none of the older kids dressed like fifties?
D (looking around at older kids in regular clothes): Um…
Thankfully, other kindergartners, across the blacktop, are decked out. Another girl in Cory’s class is wearing the exact same dress. They decide to be twins for the day. Few other boys sport grease, but they at least have pant legs rolled up. The kids beam in their getups.
Cory’s “C” is hanging by a thread, but it’s hanging. Never. Making. Another. Ponytail. Under. Duress.