You Got To Hand It To Her

(I’m with my husband eating dinner in an almost empty restaurant when a family of five walks in. The youngest, a girl about 17 or 18, is wearing a wrist brace and getting ribbed by her older brothers for being a klutz.)

Girl: “At least I can actually serve a volleyball.”

Brother #1: “At least I can actually serve a volleyball without spraining my wrist.”

Girl: “Hey, it was still an ace.”

Brother #2: “You can’t even be taken out in public without hurting yourself.”

Girl: “Daddy! Tell him I can.”

Dad: “Leave her alone, boys.”

(The boys settle down, and the girl proves she can function just fine with just one hand. After the meal, she’s all smiles again and joking with her brothers while reaching for her bag under the table.)

Girl: “See? I told you guys you can take me out in public. I—whoa!” *falls off chair*

(Her brothers are dying of laughter while the rest of the restaurant tries not to laugh. I expect the girl to be mortified, but she gets up laughing harder than anyone.)

Girl: “Okay, but I think I get points for style on that one.”

Waiter: “Ten for being cute.”

(She beams while her brothers grow serious, but she brushes them off as easily as the fall and walks out of the restaurant with her head held high.)