On Sam’s last day of second grade, I made the mistake of getting weepy in front of him. He found this highly entertaining, and has been trying to get a repeat performance ever since.
SAM: Mom, in twenty years, I’ll be a grown up. And I won’t live with you anymore.
ME: Yes, I know.
SAM: Does that make you so sad?
ME: No, I’m good.
SAM: Are you going to start crying?
ME: No.
And then a little later . . .
SAM: I’m going to be starting third grade next year.
ME: Yes.
SAM: And then pretty soon, I’ll be in middle school. And then high school. And then I’ll go away to college.
ME: Do you have a point in there somewhere?
SAM: I wanted to see if I could make you cry again.
ME: Thanks, I’m really enjoying this.
And yet later . . .
SAM: I was a cute baby, wasn’t I?
ME: The cutest baby ever.
SAM: But I’m not a baby anymore. And I’ll never be a baby again. I’ll just get older and older. Doesn’t that make you so sad?
ME: Sam, seriously! Stop trying to make me cry! Especially when I’m driving!
I’m halfway through the second season of GAME OF THRONES – I know, I know, I am behind the times – and have the following thoughts:
1. I really, really want a dire wolf. Not only are they wicked smart and useful for gnawing on your enemies, but they’re also super cute and sort of cuddly looking. My pug is cute and cuddly, but she’s useless. The only thing she’ll attack is a jelly doughnut. And anyone who tries to take it away from her.
2. The GAME OF THRONES chickies are very quick to unlace their bodices and get naked. Pretty much all you have to do is say, Hey, what’s up? to one of them, and she’s all like, Oh, did you want to see my breasts? Whoosh, off goes the dress. To facilitate this quick disrobing, the women mostly are wearing Halloween costumes that are best described as slutty princess or slutty pirate or slutty slut.
3. That King Joffrey is a real piece of shit, huh? And don’t you love it when Tyrion slaps him across the face? It makes me so happy Every. Single. Time.
Me: Oh. I don’t think I know where the junkyard is.
Sam: That’s easy. You just follow a garbage truck. It will lead you there.
Me: Good point. The problem is, it could take a while before the garbage truck would return to the junkyard. Why don’t we go to Goodwill instead? Maybe you can find parts there.
Sam: Okay. Here’s what I need: some sort of outer casing, wires, a clock and a blowtorch.
Me: Wait, what? A blowtorch?
Sam: Yes.
Me: No. I’m not getting you a blowtorch.
Sam: Come on! How else am I supposed to weld the parts together?
Why, for example, would anyone feel the need the need to advertise that they heart their English Springer Spaniel? Does such a person live in the eternal hope that another English Springer Spaniel fan will see their bumper sticker, and approach them in the parking lot of a CVS for some mutual English Springer Spaniel bonding?
The worst are the politically themed bumper stickers. You love the president, you hate the president, whatever your position. There are people out there, driving cars — half of them completely insane — who possess the polar opposite point of view. At best, you’re going to get cut off in traffic. A lot. At worst, someone is going to want you to participate in a reenactment of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Why risk it?
And then there are the people who like to express lots and lots of points of view. They think Mean People Suck, and love Nine Inch Nails, and are pro-recycling, and want Calvin to urinate on all Ford trucks, and are fond of their granddogs, and believe that the defense department should be holding bake sales to raise money.
These drivers are giving away a lot of information about themselves. I have close friends who don’t know half as much about me.
Shouldn’t we be playing a little harder to get? I may — or may not — have run a marathon. I may — or may not — have a child who is an honor student. I may — or may not — be carrying a concealed handgun.
