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It's a weekend with the kids, which these days means an ongoing battle against torpor and inertia, especially where nearly-16-year-old Nik is concerned. To illustrate, I give you the following exchange from my last kid weekend:
Me: [standing in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal]
Nik: [entering] I'm hungry.
Me: [gestures around the kitchen] There's food.
Nik: But I don't know what to have.
Me: Well, you could have cereal.
Nik: But there are no clean bowls.
Me: ...riiiiight, and what precisely do we do about that?
Nik: I don't feel like washing a bowl.
Me: And whose issue is that, pray tell?
Nik: Can I use your bowl when you're done with it?
Me: Sure, but you're still going to have to wash it.
Nik: But you're having the same thing. I don't have to wash it AGAIN.
Me: [slowly and deliberately licks the entire inner rim of the bowl]
Nik: ...you did that on purpose.
Me: Yes. Yes, I did.
This morning, he texted me at 5:30 a.m. because he couldn't sleep—same as his sister did at 10 p.m. last night. I do not accept your "new normal," Universe.
Me: [standing in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal]
Nik: [entering] I'm hungry.
Me: [gestures around the kitchen] There's food.
Nik: But I don't know what to have.
Me: Well, you could have cereal.
Nik: But there are no clean bowls.
Me: ...riiiiight, and what precisely do we do about that?
Nik: I don't feel like washing a bowl.
Me: And whose issue is that, pray tell?
Nik: Can I use your bowl when you're done with it?
Me: Sure, but you're still going to have to wash it.
Nik: But you're having the same thing. I don't have to wash it AGAIN.
Me: [slowly and deliberately licks the entire inner rim of the bowl]
Nik: ...you did that on purpose.
Me: Yes. Yes, I did.
This morning, he texted me at 5:30 a.m. because he couldn't sleep—same as his sister did at 10 p.m. last night. I do not accept your "new normal," Universe.
