Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Teen

It’s a bit of a blow to one’s youthful pride when your child begins to poke fun at signs of your imminent death (ok, just that you’re getting old), yet last night’s wound was soothed with the salve of delight that cleverness is increasingly abundant in my G. The 45 minute journey home through the winter woods often breeds excellent family bonding. Last night was date night, and after collecting the boys to head home, I was particularly jovial and lively on our trek.
Amidst my singing and goofy outpourings, my eldest spouts from the back seat, “Mom, what did you have to drink?”

Shocked, my initial response is laughter at what must be running through his mind…perhaps it was a touch maniacal, but I managed a “Water. Why do you ask?”

Eyes rolling I’m sure (yes, he is exhibiting signs of the teen species), he says “You are not acting like yourself”

Doubly shocked, since everyone that truly knows me has experienced, also with occasional rolling eyes, my unwavering ridiculousness and love of laughter, I reply in complete confusion now… “What?! When am I not like this??”

There in the darkness of the back seat I, now in hindsight, envision a slow smirk as the 10 year old sets up for delivery. Without even a chance to brace myself, the blow crushes the jaw of my pride with no warning … “Anytime after 8PM”

With my dignity out cold, mom-joy steps in to shake the hand of the crafty opponent.

Well-played, boy. Well-played.

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