Dear C,

Well, I thought the celebrated British stiff upper lip might finally be wobbling, after a second round of terrorist attacks in London.  What I had not reckoned on, however, was the ability of the average British teenager to thumb her nose at fear and concentrate on the truly important stuff in life.  I am speaking, dear C, of my friend’s fifteen year old daughter, whose response, yesterday, to the hurried evacuation of the art gallery we were visiting was to throw a tantrum worthy of a two year old upon discovering she had left her mobile phone inside.  Alas, her remonstrations to the armed police securing the area fell on deaf ears, as they apparently failed to appreciate the toll this loss would take on our precious teenager’s social life.  Her mother, unfortunately, proved a much softer target, being forced to provide assurances that a new pink phone would be purchased immediately, along with a written apology for having apparently distracted said daughter into mislaying the phone in the first place.

I only hope that you and I can prove as focused, when the inevitable happens and you and I find ourselves staring down danger back in DC.  Will we cut and run, do you think, dear C, or will we calmly return to wrestling with the other ladies in the sales bins at Neiman-Marcus, only to emerge, triumphant, with our bargain basement finds in hand?

Faithfully,

P.

P,

As one who was just today called a witch with a capital "B" by my not quite eleven year old son, I used to be one of those parents who thought it just couldn’t happen to them.  Oh dearest P, each time I think this parenting thing must ease up, as the cherubs should know mother cannot support another furrow in her brow, they strike out again and force me to continue my own little war on terror.

I had supposed that living in a state of constant fear might give the cherubs another target for their "affections" and allow their mother to live in peace.  Your friend’s experience makes clear that is just another hopeless fantasy.  It does occur to me, after all, that I still occasionally exhibit behaviors similar to the fifteen year old with my own mother.  Dearest P, I’m afraid, like the rest of the world, we are forced to fight our own personal war on terror for the rest of our lives.   

Would love to continue our engaging dialogue but am plotting my own retaliation against eldest.  Then have the conference call with Tony Blair to share newest ideas.  As we have common goals of destruction of will and containment, it should be productive. 

Faithfully,

C.