She found the perfect shade of purple (with a lock) and I even sprung for a new pen, remembering how important my diary was to me. I wish I had it now for the entertainment value alone. Oh, the angst! Jennifer cut me in line and didn't even say sorry! Jason totally ignored me at recess! I hate soccer and why do we have to play it for gym!
But most of all, I remember writing about my mom. Horrible woman! So mean! So what if I got caught making prank calls randomly from the phone book? That's no reason to ground me.
Charlotte locks her door and writes in it every day. I mean, obsessively. She's either got the beginnings of the next War and Peace in there, or something is really bugging her.
Now she's at school, and I know where she keeps her key. (Right on top of her desk. Real smooth, Charlotte.) You have no idea what restraint it's taking for me not to go in there right now and read it. I know it's ridiculous. I KNOW. She's eight. What could it possibly say? Maybe I'm just looking for feedback--any feedback--on mothering. It's not like I have a boss to give me a performance review. And it's not like I'm going to find You're great at communication, Wendy, but the whole allowance area needs improvement.
Don't worry. I won't. I WON'T. She deserves a little privacy.
Did you ever keep a diary?