When I was in fifth grade and Lindy was in second, my dad took me to the store and allowed me to buy a record by Elvis Presley. (You remember records, don’t you? They were played on a turntable at 45rpm.) We also bought Lindy a plastic golf set.
When we got home, Lindy was waiting in the drive-way. “I got a new record,” I boasted. “What did you bring me?” Lindy asked. I decided to tease her and I replied, “Nothing.” Lindy threw herself down and began kicking her arms and legs. “Look, I’m just kidding. Here’s your golf set.” I said.
She yelled out, “I don’t care,” and went right on kicking and screaming.
My dad looked at her and said, “We have to help Lindy. We can’t let her be like your mother.” That began a campaign of making sure Lindy and I were nothing like the egg donor. I like to think Dad would be pleased with the results of our journey.