And the award for “Best Mother…”

…will not be making an appearance in my trophy case.

The Girl and i are pretty comfortable getting on the phone and yakking a couple times a week.  She’ll also send me text messages at 5am, asking for a 9 am wake up call. 

The Boy and i, however, communicate frequently by text message.  He says he just doesn’t like talking to people, and prefers the cold, impersonal nature of text messaging.

So i adapt…

daisyfae:  i deposited more cash into your rent account

The Boy: thanks but there was enough there to cover the month

daisyfae: ok.  go buy yourself a hooker i guess…

The Boy: said and done

daisyfae: that was quick.  you keeping one in the closet, or did the widow lady downstairs get entrepreneurial?

The Boy: the one in the closet died.  who knew they need food?

daisyfae:  Truce!  i quit!  you win – i’m sending you off to live with upset waitress*

The Boy: do waitresses need food?

daisyfae: i think they can get by on scraps from the kitchen floor

The Boy: then that might work, as long as she likes four day old pizza crusts

daisyfae:  don’t you have homework or something? 

The Boy: no, class was cancelled so i’ll study when i feel like it.  damn, woman, get off my back.

daisyfae: don’t get smart with me, nimrod.  i can take that money back outta the account…

The Boy: if you do i’ll start using crystal meth.  yeah.  that’s what i’ll do…

daisyfae:  fine.  cheaper than your fucking tuition.

The Boy: touche.  you win this round.


* The Boy thinks the upset waitress is brilliant, and is quite smitten with her…