“I don’t have much time to make myself a cup of tea,” L’s Mother announced today.
“I can make tea,” I said before asking, “What kind of tea would you like?”
“Any kind,” she foolishly told me.
Flashing her a grin I said, “Worm and mud tea it is.”
“I don’t think worm tea would be very good,” she said with a smirk.
I nodded in agreement. “Just mud then.”
“I want to spend more time with you,” L’s Mother told me this morning, “but between L. staying up later and me having to go to bed earlier there just isn’t enough time right now, and I am really tired of being clock blocked!”
Last night L’s Mother had an ephipheny. I’d just finished saying that I needed someone (not her) to stop telling me that I was going to react in a certain way, because it was only making me defensive and therefore less likely that I would react in the way they wanted, when L’s Mother looked at me and said, “I just realized something; you are innately defiant!”.
I have to admit, her saying that to me shook me to my very core. “You mean you just figured that out now?” I asked in genuine utter disbelief.
L’s Mother hurt her eye a few days back, not badly, but it looked horrible, more red than any other color, particularly the next day. So much so that I had already admitted to her that I found the sight of it disturbing.
This is perhaps a weakness I should not have drawn attention to.
The next morning (early enough that I wasn’t even thinking about her eye yet) she came into my office wearing a red and white sundress, and proclaimed, “You never complement me when I wear something that matches my eyes anymore!”.
Lala: I’m going to draw a bath.
Me: *doesn’t take the joke bait, but it doesn’t make any difference*
Lala: . . . with crayon!
L’s Mother: You should use water colors instead!
“Who bought the ‘Would-Kill-Me-If-I-Ate-It pie?'” L’s Mother asked me yesterday.
“Lala,” I answered. “She knew I was feeling down and thought it might help.”
L’s Mother considered that for a moment. “And she blamed me for your mood, is that it?” she asked with a smirk.
The other day while eating a dish that included soybeans as an ingredient, L’s Mother took pains to assure me that I didn’t include enough soybeans in my diet to have to worry about Phytoestrogens.
To say the least, I found this an odd choice for dinner conversation, but not wanting to be rude, I assured her that I was far more like to worry about the “Fido estrogen” in our dog, Isa, than I was to worry about something like that.
“Watching Coco is my new Halloween tradition,” L’s Mother announced the other day. “I’m going to watch it every Halloween even if I have to watch it with my dead family.”
“Mom, when do we have to take the Christmas tree down?” my son asked the other day.
“We can keep it up as long as you like,” his mother answered.
“But when are we supposed to take it down?” he wanted to know.
Smiling, his mother replied, “If we follow tradition, February.”
February? I thought. What tradition is she following?
My question must have been visible on my face, because she continued with, “Because by February it’s so close to Valentine’s Day that you’re out of excuses for not having taken your tree down earlier.”
Last night we were playing Yahtzee and L’s Mother had one more roll of the die to complete her Yahtzee attempt, so she was talking to the die.(1)
“If you come through as a two, I will totally do the Yahtzee thing(2), I swear!” she told it. “Come on, it’ll be funny!” Evidently though, the die thought of something funnier, because she rolled a five.
Not to be outdone, however, L’s Mother promptly thrust her fist into the air and cried “Not-zee!”.
Around horrified laughter (hers and ours) she finally managed to gasp “That’s! Not! Right!”
*****
(1) It’s something a lot of Yahtzee players do, so it’s only moderately weird.
(2) Meaning, for those who don’t know, a triumphant fist being raised into the air accompanied by a cry of “Yahtzee!”.
