.. I ... I’m sorry.”There was an eternal pause, then Dora was clinging to her father and they were both crying as Zsófia, my parents and I ... an... Emma ... watched.“Dada.” Emma was leaning forward and making my neck ache. I lifted her down. “Dada, why Mummy crying?”I squatted. “Sometimes when someone is very happy, they cry,” I told her.She trotted over to Dora and tugged on the skirt of the academic gown. “Mummy?”I caught up and handed Dora a handkerchief as she released her father. She mopped. I was afraid for this reaction. How can I make my daughters understand it is wrong, when I am doing it myself?”“Worse,” Trixy corrected, “You like it, love it even, don’t you mom?”Donna felt trapped again.“ ... Well, yes ... but...” she stammered.She actually didn’t like it that much, she was always worried about her marriage, what her daughters would think. And it was just against her nature to flirt so much with men.“No buts, you love it. And that’s a fact.” Trixy interrupted.She was so in. More

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