Danger Monkey, age 9: “Hey, Dad, will you help me make some character sheets for this RPG game I made up for my friends?”
Me: (blank stare)
Me: (tears in my eyes)
Me: “Yes, son. Yes I will.”
Danger Monkey, age 9: “Hey, Dad, will you help me make some character sheets for this RPG game I made up for my friends?”
Me: (blank stare)
Me: (tears in my eyes)
Me: “Yes, son. Yes I will.”
My Oldest, age 15: “I’m so tired.”
Me: “You’re always tired.”
MO: “It’s a teenager thing. I have too much homework.”
Me: “It could be a medical thing.”
MO: “It’s not a medical thing.”
Me: “Try this… if you put your head down on the table right now, could you go to sleep?”
MO: “No, definitely not. Maybe. Yeah, probably. But it’s NOT medical.”
Me: “You should get tested for sleep apnea. I have a really bad case. It can be hereditary.”
MO: “It’s not medical! I’m just tired!”
Me: “You seem irritable. That’s a symptom.”
MO: “I hate you.”
Little Miss Thing, age 6: “Can I have apple cider?”
Me: “Wouldn’t you rather have something more substantial? This is the only snack you’ll get before dinner.”
LMT: “I really really really want apple cider!”
Me: “OK, if it’s that important to you, sure. Have cider.”
LMT: (tiny drink) “I can’t drink this.”
Me: “Hey, that’s expensive cider!”
LMT: “I tasted germs.”
Me: “No one can taste germs.”
LMT: “I can. It’s my superpower.”
Me: “You have many amazing powers, but I don’t think that’s one.”
LMT: “It is! It really is.”
Me: “OK, sure. Go play. I’ll drink your cider.”
LMT: (runs off)
Me: (looks sideways at glass of cider) “I’m not drinking that.”