I should let my boys write this blog every once in a while as a sort of fact check. It would be a chance for you to see beyond the sunshine and roses I always write about.
For example, if my son were writing today he would make you all aware (as he did us recently) that nobody, and I mean NO-body, has done any laundry in our house in “50 years”.
Not in “ever” not in “a long time” but in “50 years”.
After grappling with the conundrum “what happened 50 years ago??” I decided to own it. I told my son I was going to hang a “days since” plaque in the laundry room.
Goal: a century of dirty clothes.
He told me I’m not funny.
(See what I mean? Where else does one find such candor?)
The other news worthy piece my son would share with you is that the new (used) car I just bought “smells like a grandma car.”
(Poignant? Yes. My son – at nearly 13 – has become a student of Sarcasm. He’s almost a prodigy. Cynicism has become a second language for him. We’re very proud.)
Anyway, because I’m a slave to his opinion, I bought an air freshener. The scent: Bahamas.
So my car would smell like paradise.
See, the same day I installed the air freshener I treated my other son to a take away pancake breakfast.
(Yes, he got in my new (used) car and I handed him a plate of pancakes, with all the fixings. It’s a long story.)
Anyhow, I thought he’d wait until we got home to eat it.
I also thought, after the syrup slid across and off his plate, that he would grasp the dynamics of “car-turning-syrup-moving” physics and stop it from happening again.
Furthermore, when he said “a little syrup spilled”, I thought a little syrup spilled.
Which is why:
- I didn’t do anything about it,
- the next morning, the passenger door was glued shut, and
- my new (used) car now “smells like an IHOP”
An IHOP in paradise, I’d like to point out.
And that must be an improvement.
I mean, 50 years?