(at restaurant with My Oldest, age 15)
(family of four gets seated next to us)
Tiny girl, maybe 3: “I don’t want to sit here.”
Mom: “What’s wrong dear?”
(tiny girl runs around table to her dad)
TG: “That big man is angry! Why does he look so angry?”
Dad: “He’s not angry, honey.”
(I wave at her and smile)
TG: (suspicious stare)
TG: “OK.”
(walks back to her seat, eyeing me warily)
Oldest: (stifling laughter, tears in eyes) “I suddenly need to text all my friends. No reason.”
My Oldest, age 15: “Can I drive home?”
Me: “Sure.”
MO: (starts engine)
MO: “Bwahaha! We’re going to Dairy Queen and there’s nothing you can do about it! I’m in control now! You have to go where I want to go!”
(long silence)
MO: “You’re still going to pay, right?”
My Oldest, Age 15: (climbing into car) “What took you so long? I almost froze to death.”
Me: “Sorry. But, let’s be clear, I was only five minutes late.”
Oldest: “Except it’s February and now I have frostbite.”
Me: “Well, you would have been fine if you had a sweater or coat on.”
Oldest: “Yeah, like that’s my fault.”
Me: …
Very Vocal Viking 