It was one of my first jobs as a new substitute teacher. I’d passed the CBest, been fingerprinted, and was nervously preparing on that January day, to do my new sub thing in an 8th grade advanced math class. Middle daughter’s advanced math class.
Not everyone knew we were related and she begged me not to tell the others. However, mid way through the period she decided she needed water, my water bottle — I guess the little cherub was thirsty. So in a moment of mothering clarity, I said she could have it only if she told the class we were mother and daughter.
Reluctantly she agreed, and the water bottle was hers.