IHOP in Paradise

this image will make sense later
this image will make sense later

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.

It doesn’t.

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:

  1. I didn’t do anything about it,
  2. the next morning, the passenger door was glued shut, and
  3. 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?