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has met her real mother. We know this because Cristina has a beguiling way of asking the most difficult, most awkward questions and getting people to trust her with the impossible answers. Dawn is approximately as intellectual as the inside of your tennis ball, and she definitely enjoys Robbie's product. Dawn constantly vibrates at a very high speed, cruising the neighborhood in her custom white Corvette and relentlessly teasing the soccer dads.

Friday afternoon, before the big football game, as I delivered fast food, changes of clothing and basic game supplies for our four girls who had pre-football tennis matches, water polo games, and cross-country meets, Dawn teetered after Autumn, wobbling on her five-inch heels across the parking lot in pursuit of her daughter. Clearly, Autumn no more wanted to know or own Dawn than she wanted to play offensive tackle or be deported to Rio de Janeiro.

"Sweetie, sweetie," Dawn sorta screeched, "you forgot your," she waved a box of tampons in the air. No shame, no discretion. "Autumn!" Dawn , wobbling on those heels high enough to double as stilts, screeched at the top of her lungs, "You forgot your tampons!"

Our four girls wanted to wither and die on Autumn's behalf.

Taylor, our resident "beast," meaning the best athlete and the quickest of the four to throw-down in the face of any threat or challenge because she has no "flight" reflex, suggests, "Let's go kick Dawn's ass!"

"Oh, yeah, so Robbie can bring the Hell's Angels and shoot us, maybe drag us by our hair across the parking lot," Courtenay painted a pretty vivid picture.

"Ugh! I would die. I would just die. I would freakin' run away. Bye, Robbie and Dawn, I'm outtie. I would beg to go to boarding school." Madison slumps a little lower in the back seat, perfectly acting out her empathy.

Cristina, however, already had her door open, her game gear in her hand, and her plan clearly in mind. "C'mon, you idiots!" my little girl coaches. "Let's go make sure that Autumn is okay." She paused, spitting like she would at shortstop, "As a matter of fact, you go make sure Autumn is okay. I'll go get the damn tampons."

I watched. More precisely, I watched in perfect disbelief. Never in a million-million lifetimes; never! I would not have courage to walk-up to Dawn and demand the box of precious female equipment. Cristina , however, strode confidently right-up to everybody's best-dressed tweaker, extending her arm and obviously demanding she hand-over the goods. Astonished, I watched

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