Would you like that starched or Ferberized?
I ran into my friend Judy coming out of the dry cleaners the other day. She was a mess. The dark circles under her eyes had pockets. She alternated between yawning and sniffling into a handful of tissues. She had developed this twitch where she would clutch her throat and gasp. Her son Trevor, on the other hand, was gurgling and flirting with every woman in the mini-mall. He sat in the car seat, smiling and drooling and waving like the Mayor. "Judy," I cautiously asked, "are you okay?" Sniff. "I'm fine." Yawn. "You look a little out of sorts," I ventured. "Did Trevor keep you up last night?" She looked panicked. "You live three miles away. Don't tell me you heard him, too." Clutch. Gasp. I gestured to a small bench outside the ice cream parlor. "Judy, sit down. Heard him do what?" "Scream. He was screaming for thirty minutes at a time. Some of the neighbors called to see if we needed the police. One actu