(I arrive home) My Oldest, age 16: “Where’ve you been? I made popcorn, no help from you. You can’t have any. Don’t even ask.” Me: “Why would I want popcorn? I just got Chinese takeout, thank you very much.” Oldest: “Ooooh, Chinese! Gimme some.” (long pause) Me: “Do you even hear the irony?”
I can barely stand the irony of sternly talking to the boy for reading past lights out.
His mother and I both were that kid, always reading past lights out. I honestly believe I needed glasses so early in life purely because of all the hours reading by flashlight.
Son, if you read this some day, we both love that you want to read for a couple extra hours every night, but your sister keeps telling on you.
Please get better at hiding it.
While searching the garage this evening for brightly colored tape, so I can mark a low hanging beam, I of course bang my head on said low hanging beam.
Some would call that irony.
Some would call it Karma.
I call it a typical Wednesday.