This time, it was The Girl. Usually, it’s her testosterone-laden sibling…
The Girl, in her Sunday night “avoidance of doing what must be done” mode, decided at 9:00 pm to make baklava. Explaining that this is a time consuming exercise, she decided to press on – and was packing up to make a run to the grocery around 9:30 pm. i am preparing for bed, after a very long weekend of drinking, dancing, and drinking-and-dancing. Not to mention bike riding*.
The Girl: Do you need me to pick up anything while i’m at the store?
daisyfae: Yeah – a 12-pack of diet coke would be great.
The Girl: Sure, no problem.
daisyfae: Oh, and could you snag some Preparation H? Meant to stop on the way home, but forgot.
The Girl: NO WAY! I’m not buying that! Never… God…. Can’t you use some of that butt paste stuff we got The Boy as a joke?
daisyfae: That’s for diaper rash. This is different. Man, i’m in pain, here… help the old lady out… [whimpering, shuffling down the hallway in apparent pain]
The Girl: Not happening.
daisyfae: Well, i’ll call The Boy and see if he’ll do it.
The Girl: i’ll get you anything, but that…. God!
daisyfae [talking to The Boy]: Can you stop and get Preparation H for me on the way home?
The Boy: Hell no.
daisyfae: C’mon. i’m trying to see which one of you loves me more…**
* With the run on Saturday, and the ride from the house to the festival downtown on Sunday, i put in at least 40 miles. i’ve done as much as 60 miles on a weekend. The limiting factor is not my legs or cardiovascular health. It’s ass-numbness. Gotta spring for the damn gel seat…
** One of the best things about being the mother of two young adults? Messing with their little heads…