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During the Introverted Thinker's junior year of high school, we plan to go to Europe in the summer.

"How about a bike trip, mom?"

"Ok," I say. "Sounds good."

"How about Amsterdam?"

I think about it and send some messages. "How about Denmark? I speak Danish and I want to go back."

"All right," says the IT.

Mind you, I am getting over systemic strep A, aka sepsis, and I am still not back to work. Various practical friends who note that the IT was the state high school girls Junior Varsity Mountain Bike Champion the year before ask me practical questions. "How are you going to keep up with her?"

"Tandem." says my daughter.

Oh. I picture myself on the front of the bike with my feet off the pedals. I pulled her with a trail-a-bike until I barely could. "Perfect."

Until my daughter comes home and says, "Mom, I've decided not to go to Europe. I want to go to Thailand with R's group instead."

I think about it. I will not be invited with the group that goes to Thailand to teach English to students in a small town. They have been going for fifteen years.

My daughter has left the room and is back at her desk, studying.

I think about it and I go to her. "I'm disappointed!" I say.

She turns, pats me and says, "You'll get over it."

And I laugh and I do.


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