On Friday night we all jumped in the car to go and pick up my 10 year-old who was playing at a friends house. It was unusual that both my husband and I were there — especially as I had said not long before, “Did you want to run over there and pick him up?” and his casual reply was “No, thanks”. Clearly I was to slow to realize that I was making the usual fatal mistake of asking, not telling– as in “Hey you! Drop the remote, get off your butt and go pick up the kid who I shuttle around 99% of the time!” So anyway, we finally make our way to get him, drawn together by the bribe of a beer and nachos at the mall after the pick-up.
So we’re standing in the house chatting with the Mom while my kid drags himself away from the 50-inch plasma (the kind that we DON’T have, he reminds me constantly) and even the other Mom seems amazed that my husband is there with me. So my kid puts on his coat and suddenly turns to me and says with that innocent expectation of help that boys do so well, “Mom, where’s my other glove?” Now obviously the appropriate response to the 10 year old is not “How the hell would I know you idiot ? It’s not my glove, not my house, and NOT MY PROBLEM” At least not in front of the other mother anyway. So I just smile and say don’t worry it’ll turn up. My husband however, hands-on parent that he perceives himself to be and clearly looking to demonstrate his value since he’s here, gives the kid a min-speech about being responsible for his own things. How ironic is that from the man who woke me up at 5:25am to find his coat for him!! Just goes to prove that their total inability to keep track of anything is not only genetically passed on, but it’s just like color-blindness, they live in complete and total denial of the condition.