And... are you... OK with that?
I stared at the teacher blankly for a minute, standing in the middle of drama rehearsals as I watched Cinderella walk out with Maleficent (and Diablo) for her evening visitation.
The only audible sounds were those of my eyelids as I blinked HEAVILY in disbelief over the question and EXCITEDLY over the miriad of responses that were flooding my mind.
Was this woman SERIOUSLY asking me if I was OK with the fact that Maleficent was Cinderella's mother???
Of course not, but OHMYGOD if only I could answer that question honestly FOR ONCE.
Then I looked around for Allen Funt 'cuz clearly this was some kind of JOKE or TEST and there MUST be someone waiting in the wings ready to present me with a BIG HONKING GOLD MEDAL for exercizing self-restraint and not launching into a diatribe over my TRUE feelings about this woman... this so-called "mother" of my stepdaughter.
There were no medals, no golden statues, no rounds of applause.
Just my own self-satisfaction for being an adult and following the advice of my own personal hero, Thumper:
If you can't say something nice... don't say nothin' at all.