The Wrong Bernardi
And in the middle of it all, my son stood in his preschool uniform, cheeks round, black bangs falling over his forehead, hands on his hips, scolding his babysitter.
“Elmo,” Aiden said, deadly serious, “I told you T-Rex is not a villain. He’s just misunderstood.”
Elmo, whose real name was Elma but who had lost that war on her second day working for me because Aiden decided “Elma isn’t funny enough,” looked at him from behind a pile of little books and a stainless steel lunchbox.
“Aiden, you just said T-Rex ate all his friends.”
“It was an accident!”
“That was lunch, bestie.”
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