Observe and report

This is what he wrote while walking home from work.

Dear Parents of Teens:

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.* Maybe you can relate.

If there is one thing my boys have been this week is a fantastic distraction from chaos in the Capitol.

Here are some vignettes that have amused me:

Dominic, lifting the lid of the pot on the stove: What’s this?
Me: Turkey chili.
Dominic: I’m using the slotted spoon so I don’t get as much liquid.
Me: Why? Use the ladle there against the side of the pot to drain it off.
Dominic: Too late.
Me: (loud sigh)
Dominic: I love you.

Me, eating too many chips a few days before I decided to begin my diet again: I’ve given up.
Gideon: Haven’t we all?

Dominic, listening to ’80s music that he has JUST DISCOVERED like he’s some kind of musical Magellan: You know that piña colada song?
Me: Of course.
Dominic: How do they not have trust issues afterward?

Me, hosing Gideon down with Lysol as we come in the door: OK. Now do me.
Gideon: OK
Me, slipping in the spray on the floor: (high-pitched yodel)
Gideon: So you turn into Michael Jackson when you nearly fall?

Dominic: Are they all back from Marshall’s?
Me: “All” who? It was just your father and Gideon.
Dominic: Gideon brought a posse into Publix. Three girls!
Me: What? I knew about two. Who’s the third?
Dominic: I don’t know.
Me: Are you jealous? Don’t you have a girl?
Dominic: Yes, I’m jealous. I’m all alone. [The girl] and I are on a break.

Dominic: Have you seen the home screen on Gideon’s new phone?
Me: No! What is it?
Dominic: His new girl.
Me, yelling down the hall to Gideon: I bought you that phone. Now let me peep that girl!
Dominic: (laughs like Muttley)

Me to our Alexa device outfitted with the Samuel L. Jackson voice: Hey Samuel, set a two-hour timer.
Samuel L. Jackson: Two hours, Motherf—er.
Gideon, from inside the bathroom: (laughs like Muttley)

Me, seeing Gideon has a bag of fruit: Why do you have that?
Gideon: Remember? [His girl’s name] and I have a picnic date.
Me: Oh right.
Gideon: She wants me to meet her mom. What do I say?
Me: Hello.

If you have stories to share — funny or not — please do.

Otherwise, I’ll be over here by myself, regretting my decision to do Dry January.

Yours in solidarity,
Beth

*Thanks, Chuck.