Amy and the Haitians

My imaginary daughter Amy, 6, has decided to help the Haitians.

"What can I do for them, Ricky?" she asked while picking at a plate of greens, the likes of which she hadn't seen all week because Carolyn has substituted the McDonald's drive-thru for actual food preparation, and has convinced Amy (to a point of New England stubbornness) that pickle slices are a healthy green vegetable.


"I think the best thing we can do is give money," I said.


"But I'm a kid, I don't have money," she said rolling her eyes, wiggling her head forward and down while curling her smile into the "duh" expression so favored by Carolyn and her sisters, and while pushing arugula leaves to the perimeter of her favorite Mary Engelbreit plate. "I know, we can send all the vegetables you bought yesterday!"

"Nice try. How about taking up a collection at school?" I suggested, despite half knowing that Amy's weight-based unpopularity would be a likely impediment. (She's big for six.)

"I know! I'll ask rich people for money!" she exclaimed with the giddiness that typically accompanies brainstorms of the guileless. "I'll send some emails!" This also provided a task, the urgency of which necessitated immediate abandonment of salad.


And with that, she plopped herself on the couch with her Hello Kitty laptop and began her search for the excess lettuce of the cash-encumbered, while helping herself to a couple of Chiclets.


"I know! I'll write to Robert Pattinson!" she bleated with a confidence unfettered by realism, while chewing her gum. "Wow, check out this pic, Rick!"


"You can write to him in care of the Screen Actors Guild, and they'll forward it to him," I said with a mechanical indifference to seeing a vampire in his underpants.

Amy swiftly opened Word (I taught her to touch-type by writing the appropriate letters on her fingers) and typed: "Dear Bobby," she began, having earned familiarity by virtue of having her room wallpapered with "Twilight" clippings. "I am taking up a collection to help the people in Haiti. Can you send some money? P.S. I love you so much." And with that, she galumphed to my desk to print it.

We do what we can.