In which I acquire my own PR person

So, we were at Andrew’s guitar lessons last night. His lesson is actually next door to the actual music store (locally owned for fifty years!), in the back of an antique (or junk, depending on how you look at it) shop.

I promised the kids Cold Stone afterwards to celebrate Andrew making the honor roll. So, he was in a practice room, Kyra was inspecting the knickknacks and sneaking up and down the hall, playing spy girl–pretty much what she does every time she comes along with us.

Another mom was there, talking to the clarinet teacher. We’ve chatted before during the overlap of our kids’ lessons. She declared Miss B, as always, the cutest thing. (I’m pretty sure “cutest thing” is in Miss B’s job description.) Then she told me I must be an actress (!) because she knows she’s seen me somewhere before. (Other than music lessons, that is.)

I said, no, actress was pretty much the last thing I’d ever be.

Then Miss B chimed in: “She writes books!”

Sadly, the other mom seemed to believe actress the far more believable scenario.

But it’s nice to know Miss B will speak up on my behalf.