Last night at 6: 55 I was discussing my school day with my family and there was no fighting in the Middle East. Then the war started as I was eating my potatoes. Moods changed; my mother grew silent; my father put down his fork; my sister asked to be excused to call Katy; and I continued to eat my potatoes.

"This is so stupid," my mother repeated over and over. "If you were a boy, Maria, I'd send you to Canada."

"No, you wouldn't," I said, "because I would do what I felt was right."

"You know, John, they might call you up," I looked at my father and he nodded. My potatoes didn't taste good for a second. Now the message was hitting home, my home.

9: 00pm - I watched George Bush giving his speech and all I could think of was "Saturday Night Live." I laughed when he pronounced Saddam Hussein's name. My father glared at me, but I continued to laugh.

6: 55am - "WAR BEGINS" reads the headline and my mother comments on the bold print that was used by The Boston Globe.

"They only use that font when it's really important!" she tells me.

"Well, this is sort of important," I respond while grabbing the container of milk from the refrigerator. My mother colors in her coloring book as a stress reducer, while Bryant Gumbel analyzes last night's attack on Baghdad.

"They are going to start fighting on the ground," she informs me.

"Awesome," I say while pouring milk onto my Special K. My cereal is soggy and I stare at the commercial for Florida. The contradiction of this boggles my mind. "The Today Show" screams disaster and then we're urged to go sunbathing in Florida.

It's a strange world we live in. n