I hate when parents do that.
The other day in the car, my dad asked me what I wanted for Hanukkah. I told him I had no idea, but while we were planning ahead, I thought he should know that for my birthday, I want to go to Cincinatti.
"Why Cincinatti?"
"For a play."
"huh? What play?"
"A musical called Company."
"In Cincinatti?"
"Yep."
"Why not here?"
"Because that's where they're doing it."
"That's weird, but okay."
A work of art is an invitation to love.