Yesterday morning, Sean and the boys decided to play Lego Star Wars while I headed in to take my shower. As I was working on rinsing soap from my hair, the bathroom door opened and Caleb stuck his head in.
“Mommy, can you cut up an apple for me?”
“I’m in the shower,” I pointed out, “go ask Daddy to cut one up for you.” Unless you were hoping to have it exfoliated first.
He left. A few minutes later, he was back.
“Mommy, he won’t do it.”
OK, so I know darn well why he isn’t cutting up that apple. And it has to do with the Wii controller occupying his hands.
“Tell Daddy to be a parent,” I sighed.
His delivery must have been pretty darn good. I was still in the shower when Sean came back.
“You know that urge to flip me off you’re always talking about? Trust me, I get it right now.”
After Sean left for work, Wyatt beat the level of Star Wars that they had been working on. When Sean got home , he excitedly started telling his dad all about it.
“We didn’t need more buttons, that was a trick…blah, blah, blah…a bunch of things that made sense to Sean…excitement from both of them…but we still have to beat another level. And it’s hard! You have to fly around and shoot all of the bad guys! I think that to beat it, you have to shoot the moon!”
Oh. My. Gosh.
Sure, that might distract the bad guys, but would it really be enough to finish them off?
The past couple of days, it has been gloriously warm in my area. Today, it got into the mid-70’s and was sunny all day.
Late this morning, when it was merely in the high 60’s, I got a phone call from my mother.
“Did you know that you have a child running around barefoot outside?”
“Yeah,” I told her, “I noticed that.”
“But, he needs shoes on! Your dad has already told him to put them on twice, and he hasn’t yet.”
“Mom, do you know how warm it is outside?” I asked.
“Well, yes, it is warm now, but it hasn’t been for very long. The ground is still frozen in some places.”
“Well, Mom,” I answered, “I guess I figure that he’ll put shoes on if his feet get cold.”
She decided to go for a different argument.
“But there is a lot of dog poop on the ground this time of the year! He could step in it!”
OK, I’ll give her the fact that there is more since it stays, um, preserved in the cold weather.
“It is easier to clean poop off of skin than out of the treads of shoes,” I pointed out.
It was at that point, I’m certain, that she decided that I’m an unfit parent.
But I’m ok with that.
I still remember her mother forcing us to wear socks in the dead of summer.