Archive for August, 2012
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
The Kid is 3 and 1/2 now. He can ride a tricycle like a pro and disdains babyish foot-powered vehicles now, unless he is in a position to ram other kids in similar vehicles. So yes, he’s mobile, but still over a decade away from a Learner’s Permit. However, due to who he usually rides in the car with, is a fountain spewing road rage and “helpful” driving advice.
One example: we were in the car behind this person in a silver Toyota who was decidedly not staying in one lane. Silver Toyota dude preferred to straddle the dotted line, sometimes veering into one lane, sometimes into another. “PICK A LANE!” I said to him pointlessly (he obviously couldn’t hear me, being in another car driving along the highway, but sometimes it just feels good to speak harshly to people). What follows is 20 minutes of The Kid’s hurling abuse at the car:
YOU ARE AN IDIOT DWYVER! YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT! PICK A WANE! NO, WEAWWY, PICK. A. WANE! NOWWWWW! WHY DON’T YOU JUST PICK A FWEAKIN WANE? YOU AW A DUMB HEAD, JUST PICK A FWEAKIN WANE NOW! ::exasperated sigh:: YOU AW SUCH A IDIOT.
By now we had passed the silver noncommittal lane swerver and left it far behind. Yet still The Kid continues…
GET IN A WANE! JUST FWEAKIN PICK ONE, IDIOT DWIVER! YOU AH SUCH A IDIOT. WEAWWY. WEAWWY WEAWWY IDIOT DUMB HEAD. AW YOU HAVE TO DO IS PICK A WANE. JUST PICK ONE. NOW. IDIOT.
Earlier his road rage had been focused on me and my driving.
YOU AH GOING TOO FAST! YOU MAKING ME SPILL MY WUNCH! SWOW DOWN!
I explained that he just needed to hold onto his bento box tighter; I was going way under the speed limit because traffic was backed up.
YOU AH GOING TOO SWOW! PUSH THE FAST BUTTON THAT MAKE THE CAH GO FASTAH! WE GOING TOO SWOW! GO ***FASTAH***!!!!!!
After we got to where we were going and The Kid and I were lost (it’s a long story involving the lack of maps and GPS), he started in again. I just wanted to get un-lost and was getting annoyed and frustrated and driving around in circles through Easton and Brockton because all the pertinent road signs had leafy trees growing in front of them so I couldn’t see them.
WE AH GOING THE WONG WAY! GO BACK THE OVVAH WAY!
I explained that I was following the directions on the GPS on my phone, which happened to be confusing and often wrong.
WHY WE WOST? WHY WE GOING THE WONG WAY? WHY WE GOING DIS WAY, NOWAH? WHY WE WOST? WHY WE NOT GOING HOME? WHY YOU SAY WE GO DAT WAY?
after 45 minutes I broke down and said “If I buy you a donut will you stop asking me questions?” He agreed, so we stopped at Dunkin Donuts and I bought him a strawberry frosted. Miraculously, he stopped asking me questions. Instead, he went back to critiquing my driving skills and demanding to look at my phone.
::exasperated sigh:: GIVE ME THE PHONE, NOW! YOU AH GOING IN WONG DIWECTION.
I-93 south of the city is a 7-lane clusterfuck of woe at every time of the day, in both directions. It was a LONG journey.
Here I am at my mother’s house. I’m trying to find some scissors. I look in the kitchen junk drawer, and I can’t see anything because there are playing cards stuck in every possible place. They are well-worn cards, each with a picture of some scenic thing from Greece on them. One of the jokers has the J and the picture scribbled out with Sharpie and “QUEEN OF CLUBS” written in in child’s writing. I count the cards to see if the deck is full. The 8 of diamonds is missing.
ME: I’m going to throw these cards away. The 8 of diamonds is missing.
MOTH: Don’t do that!
ME: there’s a card missing. You can’t play cards with one card missing.
MOTH: (derisively) yes you can. There are PLENTY of games you can play…
ME: NO THERE AREN’T.
MOTH: we might find the other card… you never know when it will turn up.
ME: when was the last time you played cards?
MOTH: what was the name of that refrigerator I was looking at? Whirlpool?
ME: don’t change the subject. I’m throwing them out,
MOTH: (getting more frantic) But Angela brought those back to me from Greece… like 11 years ago.
–background info– Angela is my sister’s friend, whom she doesn’t really keep in touch with anymore.
ME: I’m throwing them out.
MOTH: –pointed silence– (she is never silent unless she’s making a passive aggressive point)
And so it goes. Moth invites me to clean out her kitchen drawers, so I do, but she freaks out when I attempt to throw away one of her business cards that has an out of date email address printed on it, and has a circle cut out of the middle. Then I am admonished to save a small piece of sandpaper which has been used so many times you could probably use it for regular stationery at this point.
See? I’m not a compulsive hoarder, at least by comparison!