Below That Age You MIGHT Have Some Difficulty Figuring It Out

“Did you mean to leave your coffee maker on?” I asked L’s Mother this morning because one time out of the hundred or so times I’ve asked her, the answer was yes.

“No,” came her expected answer, so I dutifully turned the machine off yet again.

Knowing full well the strain she keeps accidently putting the poor device under (the coffee machine, not me), she later facetiously wondered aloud why the coffee maker seemed to be burning out faster than normal.

“It’s a mystery for the ages,” I replied. “Ages six and up, that is.”

Make Your “Reality” Your Own

And to wrap this week up with thoughts inspired by this thought, here’s one more:

Just because it was the “reality” of your parent(s), or the reality of your sibling(s), or even your “reality” in the past, it doesn’t have to be your “reality” now or in the future.

I Just Want To Know How Does It KNOW?!

The “Do Not Disturb” sign on my office door is one of the most remarkable items in the history of humanity. When I flip it purposefully to “Do Not Disturb” it fades to transparency almost instantly, but should I accidently flip it, it will repel important information for hours!

As I Went To Get Her Ice

L’s Mother: Would it be asking too much for you to get me some ice?

Me: At the moment, yes. I can do it a bit though.

L’s Mother: Okay. It’s just that I burnt myself and . . .

Me: *sighing because once again she has buried the lead*

You KNOW I’m Serious When I Start Sayin’ “Ain’t”

When I mentioned yesterday’s story to L’s Mother, her response was that she’s been trying to teach L. not to just resign. She raised an excellent point that sometimes even when victory is impossible, you can still manage a draw; that’s something I’ve been trying to teach him as well.

There are several reasons why I didn’t do that yesterday though.

Strictly speaking, I could have made L. chase me around the board. I probably could have dragged the game out for some time, increasing his frustration and thus increasing the chance he made a mistake. I could have increased those chances even further with some choice insults and personal digs, or even just by being passive-aggressively annoying. By using those tactics (And I am in no way implying L’s Mother was advocating such a thing!), I probably could have gotten a draw or a frustrated concession, and possibly even a technical victory. There may even be a time and a place for those kinds of tactics.

But a friendly game with my son ain’t one of them!

I Think She’s Starting To Develop An Opinion About This

A couple weeks back I asked L’s Mother, “What does “LB” stand for on the calendar?”

“Oh!” she replied. “You know how we got woken up by a leaf blower this morning?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Well,” she continued, “I want to track how often that happens so I know if it’s a one-time or even just an occasional thing, or if it’s something I’m going to have to ask someone to stop.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

Today after being woken by a leaf blower, I noticed the calendar had dutifully been marked . . .

. . . with “FLB.”

Not ALL My Memories With L’s Mother Are Sweet

L’s Mother (who absolutely adores dark chocolate, the darker the better): Did I make the dessert too much to my tastes?

Me (choking and flashing back to the time I ate unsweetened baking chocolate as a child): That’s . . . one way to put it.

Besides, I’m The One Who Can Open The Garage Door Without Help

L’s Mother is long used to me teasingly saying that I’m going to outlive just about everyone I know, but the other day she countered with, “That’s not necessarily true you know. Longevity is in my genes, so I might outlive you.”

“It’s a matter of motivation,” I replied. “Assuming L. is an equally strong motivator for both of us (because he is), I have you to live for, while you only have me, thus I have the greater motivation to live.”

Sometimes Nobody Ends Up With What They Really Wanted, But It Still Works

“Would you like to finish off the leftover potatoes and meatballs?” L’s Mother asked me last night. “Nobody else wants them.”

“I’m more in the mood for pasta,” I replied, “but I can make this work.”

As soon as I’d finished dousing them in tomato sauce and cheese though, L. walked in and announced, “You know what, I’d like those leftovers after all.”

Naturally, he didn’t want them after what I’d just done to them (he traditionally has them with gravy), and he was pretty put out by that, but I saw the funny side of it.

Particularly when I ended up making him pasta for dinner as a substitute.

This May Be The Only Example Of Me And Flowers Getting Along

It’s the time of year around here that flowers fall from the trees, and if I find fresh ones on the ground during my walks, I always bring them back to L’s Mother because she likes wearing them in her hair.