The Nanny

by Lana Ferguson

“I’m too old for princesses,” she says stoically. “Well, when we’re done we can visit the retirement home.”

“Oh, no,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “A clam-tastrophe.” I groan at her terrible joke, but I can’t help but grin as I cover my eyes. “That was awful.” “That’s sort of where I live, humor-wise. Somewhere between awful and lame.”