my daughter, the accountant

Which only goes to prove, as if you needed any MORE, that the Girl is the anti-Kellypuffs.

Let us count the ways.

We could start with the worms. I hate worms. Wiggly, squiggly, squirmy, slimy worms. She had PET worms. Then there was the whole insect phase. And the horses. And her stoic pragmatism and calm head. Her athleticism. Her gorgeous poker-straight hair.

And her natural adroitness and innate comfort with numbers. Big numbers, scary, complex formulas and equations. And she’s even good with pretend numbers, like pi.

She once told me that she liked math because it just IS. It’s black and white. Right or wrong.

2 + 3 = 5.

That’s right, right?


…so when she announced this week that she has pretty much, almost, 98%, give or take 2-3%, just about decided to plan to declare her major in Accounting, I was pleased.

And not surprised.

When I open up the Kellypuffs OldE CuriosityE ShopPETM (we fix anything!), I’m going to let her keep my books.

But she has to do it Bob Cratchet-style. On a stool, in a ledger, with a quill pen and an eyeshade.

She can have Christmas off, as long as she’s in all the earlier the next morning.


2 thoughts on “my daughter, the accountant

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