(scene opens at mostly empty table)
Beta: (shoveling ice cream into his face)
Me: (disgusted look) Beta. Dignity. Refinement.
Beta: (straightens up) What does that mean?
Me: It means you eat like an adult that has learned manners, not like a pig. Eat every meal as if you were dining with the President.
(awkward pause, looks are exchanged)
Me: Okay, how about the Pope?
(scene opens in tossed parlor, woman on settee needlepointing)
Beta: (bleary, wanders in) Morning.
Me: (looks out window) Noon. What happened to your lip? Is that a cold sore?
Beta: (delicately run fingers over bruised, fat, slightly bloody lower lip) No. Uh, you know where the corner is on the bottom of our stairs? How its the same color as the other door next to it? And how it angles? Well, I thought that it was part of the door and when I tried to open the door, I walked into it.
Me: (silence)
Beta: What?
Me: You walked into your door.
Beta: Yes.
Me: (sigh) Well, this is the point where I would give you Obligatory Mock, because you are deserving of Obligatory Mock. However, I feel that – given the circumstances – just notifying you of your deserving Obligatory Mock covers it and we’ll let it go. No promises on the rest of your siblings.
Beta: (resignedly nods) Acceptable.
(scene opens in gloomy tossed dinning room)
Delta: Batman, mommy! Batman!
Me: What? (sees Delta with hair clip and pink baby blanket) Oh! Okay!
Gamma: (from under the table) What does he want?
Me: (putting blanket around Delta’s shoulders) He wants to be Batman, so I’m putting a cape on him.
Gamma: Batman doesn’t wear pink.
Me: It’s Pride. He’s Pride Batman. Pride Batman can wear pink.
Gamma: That’s not a thing.
Me: You wanna bet?
(scene ends with Delta zooming around the room in naught but diaper and pink cape)
(scene opens in the dining room)
Me: Okay, Beta, welcome to Tiger Mom Summer school. Time to practice scales! Remember, when you see these two signatures these two notes (points them out, clearly marked as #) are always sharp.
Beta: (slumped in chair, cradling baritone horn) How do you play a sharp?
Me: (looking scale sheet) It has the fingerings right there.
Beta: I don’t think I’ve ever played a sharp.
Me: (deep breathing) You’ve been in band two years. How have you not played a sharp?
Beta: (turning red, tears starting) I don’t know!
Me: Clearly your band teacher has not been putting you through your paces and I have failed you as Nightmare Tiger Mom. We’ll begin with your first scale and it looks like I’m learning Bass Clef with you.
Beta: (begins to weep, plays soggy scale, waits for death)
Me: (finds center, remains calm) It might be an embouchure problem. You’ll have to do lip-ups. Every day you’ll need to lay face down and pick yourself up with only your lips.
Beta: (laughs through his tears)
Me: Okay. Good. Now, again.
