The Best of Enemies Read Free Page A

without a lot of conversation. You
ask
them to eat their spinach and you end up arguing until you’re prematurely gray. Here’s the thing—you don’t negotiate. Listen to me—You. Do. Not. Negotiate.”
    I say all of this while I look directly into Ashley’s aquamarine eyes, lined in far too much lavender kohl. I expect to see the telltale sign of colored contact lenses around the periphery of her irises, but as she gazes and blinks, I can’t detect anything.
    Wait, her stunning tropical-ocean eye color is
real
?
    Crap.
    Does that mean the gravity-defying, free-range boobs are God-given, too? And what of her small bottom, as flawlessly rounded as a fresh peach? I don’t even want to contemplate anyone having come out of the box this perfect. (Save for a small front-tooth gap.)
    As I need Ashley to understand how important a healthy, balanced diet is to developing children, I keep my gaze steady, despite noticing she has no dark roots or visible glued-in hair strands.
    Damn
it. Likely also real.
    I continue. “You’re the parent, you’re in charge. The trick is . . .” I move in for the kill, delighted to be sharing my hard-won knowledge. Yeah,
she
may have the bod of a Victoria’s Secret model, but
I
make sure my family takes in plenty of niacin. “If you toss a couple of handfuls of spinach into a smoothie and call it a milk shake, the Littles love it, they drink it, they don’t get rickets, and everyone wins.”
    Ashley gazes up at me with her big doe eyes, framed in heavy, dark (false?) eyelashes. She blinks slowly a couple of times before she finally speaks. “That is the most smart thing I’ve ever heard.”
    Two points for Ashley.
    She looks over both of her tawny bare shoulders before she says, “Like, Ms. Bevin said that kids are ‘sentient beings’ and should choose their own path, but I think she’s kind of an old hippie with the Ms. business? And maybe she doesn’t make the best choices herself?”
    Three points for Ashley!!
    “Do you have any other hints for me?” she asks. “I’m thinking maybe I should be giving the kids something other than frozen pizza for dinner. Like, nutritious salads? Don’t they have vitamins and niacin and things?”
    Ah, yes, Kelly was right. Ashley will do. This girl will learn.
    Because I’ll teach her.
    “You mean, do I have an entire lifestyle blog where I post recipes about hiding veggies in deceptively delicious meals called SecretSquash.com?”
    Ashley gasps. “Ohmigod! No way! Like Jerry Seinfeld’s wife does? I saw her on Oprah a few years ago! Are you going to publish a cookbook? Are you going to be famous?”
    I explain, “I’m not in it for the glory. Doing right by children is all that matters to me.”
    Well, doing right and the occasional page view. How would everyone see how hard I’m killing the mom game without sharing my success on social media?
    Although I’m still flashing my show-stopping smile, I notice I’m clenching my fists. Fine, maybe I’d have enjoyed more of my well-earned glory if Mrs. Famous Pants hadn’t stolen my idea and beaten me to market.
    Damn it,
I
was the one who first hid broccoli inside of chicken nuggets!
    Not her,
me
!
    I find myself gritting my teeth as I grin, which is problematic. If Dr. K was here, he’d make me put in my mouth guard right now. Clenching is the enemy of healthy molars. True story.
    I take a couple of deep yoga breaths to calm myself.
Whoosh
in,
whoosh
out. There, that’s better. I can’t continue to be frustrated by Jessica Seinfeld, as it’s possible she came up with the idea on her own, too. Surely I’m not the first one to figure out how to properly nourish her children.
    Granted, some days it feels like that, but it can’t actually be true.
    I inhale through my nose and exhale from my mouth. There. Getting better. Being able to maintain my cool in a crisis is precisely why I’m such an outstanding PTO president. When everyone else is losing their heads, I’m the