My daughter graduated from preschool yesterday. We sat on a grassy knoll at the park, as the teachers called the kids up, one by one, up to get either certificates or “diplomas.”
The teacher called a name I remembered — Owen – not because he was my daughter’s friend, but because he wasn’t. Months back, she’d refused to go to his birthday party. When we got the invitation, I’d accepted, like I do for every birthday party, and told my daughter. “I don’t wanna go,” she said.
I figured the kid was mean to her or otherwise a jerk and made an excuse, but I never questioned why she didn’t like him. I did notice, when I changed my RSVP, that there were only a few “yes” responses to his invitation. read more







