Monday mornings are not too popular in our household. Today as my teenage daughter and I were walking out the door I said, “Please pull the door shut.” Her response: “As opposed to leaving it open?”
Ah, the first workday of the week's verbal marathon had begun. Walking to the car, I asked, “So why was your Health book laying on the floor inside the front door?”
“Francesca had it.”
“But you didn’t see Francesca this weekend. Alexa is the only one who came over.”
By now the lovely one is rolling her eyes and getting exasperated. She is opening the car door with great vigor. Sighing, she said, “Mom, Francesca had it, but then Alexa borrowed it too. They didn’t need it anymore, so she brought it back. Remember she picked me up for the baseball game on Saturday?”
“Don’t they have their own Health books?”
“How would I know? This is stupid; I’m not the Grand Inquisitor.”
Hmmm... It seemed like a good time to shift the conversation. My daughter has to wear a uniform to school and it is undeniable that it is one of the ugliest outfits ever created. On this we both agree. But this morning she was wearing a bright red Phillies hoodie sweatshirt over her white shirt.
What followed seemed like a supportive Mom thing to say:
“Hey, I see you are wearing your new sweatshirt.”
“Okay.” My daughter is not one to expound profusely on any given subject in the morning.
“But I thought you told me you couldn’t wear anything to school but your letter sweater.”
Now she is more awake but beginning to shift her body in the seat. A sign she is getting disgusted.
“Mom I can wear this until school starts. Then I have to take it off. I am cold and I happen to like it. After all, the Phillies are the National League East Champions. Remember I was at the game on Saturday?”
“So are you going to bleed green?”
Well at least now I have her attention. She’s eying me suspiciously and shaking her head.
“The Eagles bleed green, not the Phils. Their colors are red and white”