We were in the car, driving to dinner.
"I forget, Mom," said Amanda, "last year, did you print the message right onto the cards?"
"Yes," said Mom.
"It's so much easier that way," said Amanda, flicking the blinker.
"It sure is," said Mom, putting up her window.
"Do you want to print up the message tomorrow?" said Amanda, passing a car. "Then you can order the Christmas cards this week."
"We could," said Mom, "but this year we are not going to write LOVE on the front of the cards."
"What's wrong with LOVE?" said Amanda.
"Linda always says how much the doormen in New York look forward to the cards, because there is a message, but last year since the cards said LOVE they only got a cash envelope with no card."
"Why didn't you give them a card?" said Amanda.
"Amanda!" said Mom, "you do not say LOVE to a doorman."
"Mom," said Amanda, "I think that, a) the doormen understand that the cards are pre-printed, and, b) I don't think they care anyway."
"That may be, but we are going to eliminate the LOVE this year," said Mom.
"I like the LOVE," said Amanda. "Don't you think it's nice?"
"Amanda," said Mom, "they are my cards and we are not going to write LOVE."
Amanda kept driving.