“I can’t be analytical because I’m a woman, is that it?” “Sorry! I shouldn’t have said it.” “I’m sitting here crying, so my whole response to this is emotional, right? Don’t forget, Dad, five semesters on the dean’s list. That’s not emotional; that’s analytical. I’m more like you than like Mom, remember?” “Don’t I know it. And because we are the way we are, we’re still here.” “Well, I’m glad we’ve got each other. At least I was until you accused me of being a typical woman.”
How did this conversation go so wrong so fast?
