More Why Some Days, You Just Shouldn’t Talk
So I was in the grocery store the other day with Pik, the youngest of my spawn, known collectively as “The Saffrines.” I brought her along for Sherpa duty… I mean, mother-daughter bonding time. Okay, to shut down the “there’s nothing to eat in this house” refrain.
It wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. She’d brought her cell phone.
“Can you help me out?” I asked, trying not to sound petulant. “I don’t know what kind of cereal you want.”
“Sure, in a sec,” she said. She was ten steps behind me, texting madly, a pound of honey-coloured curls between her and reality. I rounded the corner. Any minute now, she was going to be run over, and I didn’t want to see it. Fine. She could eat toast.
In the baking aisle, she caught up with me, and I tried again. “Do you know if we’re out of baking powder?”
She lifted impossibly wide, blue eyes up at me.
“Huh?”
“Baking powder. Do you know if we’re out?”
She frowned. “What’s that?”
I frowned back. “You baked cookies yesterday. You use it all the time. Baking. Powder.”
“Mother,” she said. “I Don’t. Know What. That Is.”
I swung around to point at the shelves. “Seriously. Look at the container. You don’t recognize it at all??”
“Oh!” The light dawned over her gentle features. “Baking powder!”
“That’s what I said!!”
She laughed. “I thought you said bacon powder.”
Yep. True story.
For Anyone Who’s Ever Doubted the Power of Words…
- At December 04, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
… to hurt, or to heal. Please, watch this….
Why Some Mornings You Just Shouldn’t Talk
Excerpt from an actual conversation with one of the Saffrines this morning. (If you’ve missed our earlier episodes, this is how I’m now referring to my spawn, in order to mask their identities. When specificity is necessary, they shall be known as Owodunni – Yoruban for “it is good to have money,” Hiccup and Potsticker. Or, for brevity, Hic, Pick and Otis.)
Anyway. The conversation this morning.
Me: “I’m going to Office Depot today. You need anything?
Saffrine: “Um, yeah, I need mechanical pencils.”
Me: “I think I’ve got some in my office. Have you checked there?”
Saffrine: “I usually just refill the ones I’ve got, but I’m almost out of the little lead refills.”
Me: “So you need me to get mechanical pencil REFILLS?”
Saffrine: “No. I need mechanical pencils.”
Me: “Are your mechanical pencils broken?”
Saffrine: “No, but I’m almost out of refills!”
Me: “I understand that. So, you’re telling me you don’t want to refill the ones you’ve got anymore, and you don’t want to use the ones in my office. Correct?”
Saffrine: “I just need more mechanical pencils.”
Me: “I don’t understand why you can’t refill the ones you’ve got, since you’ve been doing that already, and I can buy refills.”
Saffrine: “Fine. Don’t buy me mechanical pencils.”
Me: “I don’t mind buying you mechanical pencils. I’m happy to buy them for you. Nothing would give me greater pleasure at this moment than to dump a box of mechanical pencils onto your lap. I’m simply experiencing some confusion over the lead refill issue.”
Saffrine, looking at me with that mix of irritation and concern that makes you want to drop-kick them: “Mom. You do understand that when you buy mechanical pencils, they come with lead, right?”
That’s when I gave up.