True story (pinky-swear). After picking up both of my kids from their usual Tuesday after-school doings, we headed homeward this evening. Everything normal, yes? Except, for that one brief conversation that happened in the car. My thirteen year-old son started it by asking a seemingly simple question, and thereby catching this retort from his nine year-old sister:Teen: "Dad, can I use a book that we have at home?"
Dad: "What book?"
Dad: "What?!?"
Teen: "I'm not going to use it now. Later, when I'm a little older. You used it, right? With mom, I mean."
Dad: "Aw..."
Snotty Little Sister to Teen: "Oh...come...on! It's not a book that has directions in it. Just things to do, you dope. And it's not like they're going to work...unless it's written by a woman!"
And as Dad drove quietly home, he wondered if the ghost of his mother was cracking up at that very moment. I don't know if I'm going to make it till she's twenty-one...
