Friday, January 29, 2010

Here's the thing.

I talk to myself. I always have. Not in the third person, that would be too weird. I blame it on the fact that I'm an only child, so I talked to myself at a young age to keep me entertained. Only I never grew out of it. Then when I had kids, I used them to "hide" my talking. People didn't raise an eyebrow if I was mumbling to an infant in Target while searching for the right shampoo. But now, the kidlets are getting older, and they don't understand it, so I don't get away with it as much. Though it would be really nice when I make a comment about someone specific when we're shopping at WalMart for my kids not to shout "WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT THAT LADY STANDING OVER THERE, MOMMY?" and then have to explain myself.

Flash forward to being in the car today with the Son. We had some errands to run, and on the way home, I was making a left turn onto Main Street, but two cars were parked right in my line of sight. So I mumbled, "Dangit, I can't see." The Son, who has surprisingly been quiet, without skipping a beat, says to me,

"Well put on your glasses."

Smart kid he is. He makes me laugh every day. (He also makes me curse when he leaves matchbox cars strategically placed around the house so I step on them.)

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