Mealtime always leads to lively discussion in the house. And I say that with a giant grain of salt because none of the boys are huge “chatter-ers.” I know this doesn’t surprise you at all. (At this exact moment all boys are taking turns at fake-puking and running to the bathroom just because it’s funny).
But earlier in the meal, as things usually go, all boys were duscussing (amongst themselves) their opinions on whatever meal they’ve just been served.
“I like mom’s eggs best,” said Joshua, because he loves onions and cheese and whatever other goodies I throw in. And because he’s the oldest child and he’s clearly the smartest as I was standing within earshot.
Sammy and TJ agreed that dad’s eggs are the best because he generally doesn’t put in any “yucky” vegetables or anything else that could potentially ruin a perfectly good dish.
But then, TJ took it a step further as TJ usually does.
“Mom, I like dad’s rules best.”
My head spun around like a gyroscope.
Me: “‘SCUSE ME???”
TJ: “Yeah, dad’s rules are better.”
I heard the record scratch and I could feel my super power of expository speaking welling up from the pit of my stomach.
Me: “Lemmetellyousomething young sir. Your dad and I have the SAME rules, mmmmkay?”
Dear reader, I hope you understand that I absolutely knew what he was talking about. But you also understand that I CANNOT LET THEM THINK THEY ARE RIGHT. That would be an egregious miscalculation in judgement that would haunt me for years.
Quite possibly for the rest of my life.
Me: “TJ, who is here 90% of the time and watching over you?”
TJ: “Um, you.”
Me: “That is correct. So who is here to enforce those rules over and over and over and over MOST of the time?”
All the boys chorus: “You.”
Me: “Your dad and I talk about and agree upon all the rules (okaaaayyyy… maybe 50% of the time because 90% of this parent gig is complete improvisation).
Me: “AND… he BACKS ME UP 100% when I have to do the hard job of pointing you back to said rules.”
That was a lot of statistics to throw at them. Especially for kids who have barely learned addition and subtraction.
All the boys blinked.
Josh: “Okay, mom. When dad gets home can we watch TV?”
Me: “Go ask your dad.”
Nice talking to you boys. And yeah. Dad’s rules are probably better.
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An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.
