Quarantine isn’t life. Also it is, though. Our seven-year-old has started making her own breakfast. This little biped who used to need us to do every little thing for her can now feed herself. She’s also developed an outsized attitude where she’s suddenly a teenager. The other morning she was shaking up the oat milk for her cereal and I politely suggested she’d shaken it enough. She narrowed her eyes at me like some villainess out of a telenovela. Every day, ups and downs. C’est la vie. C’est la Knicks.
For what are the Knicks, if not a whole lotta this or that?