You have to admit, this is pretty funny. But back to the dinner. When we got
home, Ivy and I had to set the table. While we argued over where the knife,
fork, and spoon went, Dad followed us, filling our glasses with iced tea.

"You can create a college course just on setting the table. Table Etiquette
101!" Dad commented.

"So, Dad," Ivy asked. "What do we do during the dinner. Sit around and chew?"

"What a question!" was Dad's reply. "I think your mother wants some polite
dinner conversation. We're a family. It shouldn't be too hard."

Famous last words.

Mom came in and filled out plates with lasagna, salad, and bread. We sat down
to eat.

The conversation? Just hunky dory. Dad retold the goofy tale of when Parter
arrested the mannequin in Zandiger's Department Store. (Now tell me, who was
the bigger dummy?) We all laughed and told funny stories. The years that had
passed just seemed to melt away.

I wish.

The table was silent. I decided if someone was going to speak first, it would
not be me.

It was Ivy who broke the silence.

I saw her stiffen, the way she always does when she's about to lose her
temper.She scooped up a forkful of lasagna and flung it.

"What is the matter with us?!" my sister screeched. "Have we forgotten how to
speak with one another?"

In response to this, Dad picked up his napkin and began to fold it.

Oh no. He wouldn't......

"Now, Ivy Vines," he began in a high pitched voice. (Just so you know, Ivy
Vines was Ivy's affectionate nickname when she was younger. During dinner,
Dad used to make this puppet and use it to lecture. As you can see, the
rabbit's back.) "We've just gotten a bit rusty, that's all."

Ivy looked relieved. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"You call Mr. Bunny somewhere?" I asked.

Guess what. The puppet "bites" me on the nose. I picked a bit of salad and
poked it in the napkin. Dad unfolded it and set it on the table.

Feeding Mr. Bunny always got rid of it.

Mom looked at us. "The reason I invited us here is because Mrs. White gave me
two tickets to the opera. She'll be singing in this production of 'Turandot'.
It's high time we actually spent time together."

"What about the dress?" asked Dad.

"It's formal." was the answer.

I was positive I heard Ivy gulp.

OK. So you and I have seen Ivy in a dress. And we know she hates them.

I have to tell you this. (You can tease my sister later.) There's this
photograph of Ivy hanging in the hallway. It was taken before I was born, so
she's about two or three in it. She's wearing a blue dress.Every time I ask
her about that portrait, she shrugs and says, "Seasons change, and so did I."

But back to the present. After dinner, I went to my room. I walked to my desk
and opened a drawer. In a small box was my "formal" watch. It was a birthday
gift from Mom and Dad. "To our darling son, Zack, from his loving parents",
was engraved on the back of the case.

"Let's get the inevitable over with," I heard Dad say. I turned to see him in
the doorway.

"The suit?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Well, I could scream and yell, and say I'll never wear that thing in a
million years, and it still won't compete with the fuss Ivy will make. "

Dad laughed. "Then I guess you know what your mother's headed for."

So he remembered Ivy's opinion on dresses.

Well, anyway, after a loud argument on proper attire, we went to the opera
house. We took a box seat. During the second act, I thought I saw a familiar
face across the opera. Then I decided it was just my imagination.