When I was a kid and my parents had heated words, my mother would sometimes tell my father “you know, she’s listening to everything and one day, she’s going to write a book about it, is that what you want?” and I’d wipe the drool off my chin and think, “yeah, a book of boredom, maybe” and then resume drooling. I don’t know why I couldn’t think that without wiping the drool off, so maybe I’m making that part up, but still.
I never did write that book, mostly because all of my parents’ fights were stupid and unmemorable and centered around things like whether Roseanne was a “lowlife”, as my father believed, or “quality entertainment” as my mother would have it.
But today, I do have two family secrets to disclose. Fortunately, neither has to do with my parents:
1. On Friday, my daughter and I did laundry and despite our careful laundry segregation, Husbandrinka now has pink underwear. I told my son about it, swearing him to secrecy, and he immediately told everyone. If you haven’t received your personal email from him yet, please be patient. He’s been busy buying various mailing lists and will get to you shortly.
2. When my son was three, I’d say “ok, time to get out of the bath!” and he’d say “one hundred more minutes” and I’d say “no, five” and he’d say “one hundred!” and splash his fist in anger and I’d relent and then five minutes later would say “ok, a hundred minutes are up!” and he’d say “ok!” and get out of the tub. I told my son this story this weekend and he laughed and said “why didn’t I know what 100 minutes was?” and I said “because you were stupid”. And he said “no, really, why?” And I was like “a total moron”. Of course I didn’t say it out loud because, you know, the whole kids and self esteem stuff.
One year ago ...
- No Comment - 2014