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The Magical Nanny

Ruth getting the hang of selfies.  ~ This particular story starts with the Magical Nanny on the playground. I’d seen her each day in the morning and afternoon for drop-off and pick-up for Ruth. She was someone that had the glistening, weathered look of a woman in recovery. From what, makes no difference. Old enough to be the grandma of the kinder and the toddler she tools around with, but fit and muscular, tattoos on both arms, gray-blond hair in a funky pixie cut (not your basic Golden Girls coif!). We have exchanged countless affirming glances as she walks by the Scene that is dropping off Ruth for school.   Nobody blames Ruth for the chaos of morning drop-off. We get it. It makes sense. Everyone is out of practice. The principal at our school, after witnessing a Ruth drop-off, said affectionately, “All the kindergarteners are young. The first graders are young. It’ll take time for them to catch up.” I knew what he meant. Young, as in  green .    Just a few months ago, I—a wildly ext

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