Saturday, November 6, 2010

Captain Oblivious

My son loves my work stories.
I usually get home from work just as he is off to start  his day and he always requests a story about my day. His mother's son, he's got my warped sense of humor and rebel without a clue attitude. He's more quick witted than I can ever hope to be. One chink in his armor is male logic, which he can't help.
You'd think when I walk in the house after work in street clothes and barefoot, having started the washing machine before I even get in that he'd have a clue how my day went.
Some years ago, he and my daughter were on baseball/softball teams. I had them get ready while I fed the horses so I could get them to their respective games on time. My daughter runs out to show me a red mark on her arm. He'd whacked her with his athletic cup. I explained to her that the bigger problem was that the thing had never been washed. I never could find it on laundry day, and couldn't figure out where he hid it. So she runs back in the house to tell him how disgusting he is. A few minutes later he runs out. "Mom, I don't know what the big deal is. I wasn't wearing it when I hit her with it!"
One day, I pick him up from preschool. Only he and I are in the car. I ask him a question. No response. About 3 minutes later he pipes up with "You talking to me, mom?"
That's when I realized he was perfect husband material.

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