“You won’t believe what Tom said today,” my husband laughs, tossing a single ice cube into his drink. Tom is a colleague of his and has a daughter around the same age as our seventh grader, Lily.
“What’s up?” I ask, slicing cucumbers for a fresh salad.
“Tom came into the office looking completely wiped out. He sighed heavily and said, ‘Is your household in total chaos because One Direction broke up?’”
I burst into laughter. “Oh no! What did you say?”
“I told him, ‘Lily couldn’t care less about One Direction. Now, if Benedict Cumberbatch announced he was quitting Sherlock or if they canceled Doctor Who, that would be a different story!’”
“Thank goodness our kid got our nerd genes,” I say, popping a crouton into my mouth. “She did mention that some girls at school were in full meltdown mode over it, though. Like, crying and everything!”
“Exactly what Tom described,” he shakes his head. “It’s like emotional pandemonium! Constant texting and drama galore.”
“Zayn?” I scrunch my nose. “Seriously, who names their kid that?”