I’m at a time share in New England owned by my grand parents. Not my dad’s folks though; my mom’s folks. The time share condo resembles my Kindergarten classroom except elongated and with less toys. Commotion permeates. Not just the expected commotion of too many people in too small a space. And not just the expected commotion of dinner (lunch?) -making. [tag]Angelina Jolie[/tag] has arrived. And she’s adopted my brother’s kids. My nephews. She struts through like she owns the place. Not like a member of the family. No effort made in that regard. But like the place belongs to her. She runs it. And everyone should defer to her authority and judgment (though no one seems to be interested in doing so). She cradles the youngest nephew against her chest and lectures us on child-rearing. No one is interested in what she has to say. Especially not me. I make for the upstairs and she follows, both nephews in toe. Continuing her lecture. Not taking the hint. Even as I try locking myself in the bathroom.