"For what?"
"For the M&M's!"
"But you said last night you don't like M&M's!"
"I don't."
"That's why you have a handful?"
"I can't stop eating them, they're addicting! Now I'm going to get fat," and she breezed along on her way, M&M's and all.
We don’t have TV. So when we want to watch something that’s been on TV – CSI, House, Modern Family – we have to do so on our computer which just happens to be in the dining room. Normally, every other night of the week, it’s “Hey Mom, do you want to watch this episode with me?” Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. This last week, since she’s been on break from school, it’s been a Modern Family marathon – we both just saw it for the first time this week. LOVE Modern Family, makes us laugh out loud. Today, she has MF up and running, I have a few minutes before I have to switch laundry, so I mosied on over and sat down next to her. She was tolerant for a minute then turned and looked at me, “What are you doing?”
“Watching Modern Family.”
“Why?”
“Uh, because I like it.” Then she growled and turned her attention back to the screen. Time to switch laundry – done. I came back and sat down again to watch some more, “NOW what are you doing?”
“Watching Modern Family! What’s the problem?”
“You always do that.”
“Yeah, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is you ALWAYS do that.” I was confused. Of course, I always do that, we’ve been watching Modern Fam. all week together, I didn’t get it. I finished the episode, she went in her room to listen to music, I went to my room to ice my feet. An hour later, she’s back at the computer watching Modern Family – COOL! So I joined her. Again with the exact same conversation as twice before. Wow. So I just walked away. A little while later she came into the kitchen, “I don’t get it Pip, we’ve been watching Modern Fam. all week long together. YOU introduced me to it. I LOVE it. You love it. What’s the problem with me watching it tonight?”
“You just don’t get it Mom - before I INVITED you to join me.” Hmmm. Well, I don’t have to be invited into my own dining room. Watch me kid, I can go in, I can go out, I can go in, I can go out. That’s what I felt like saying but decided ignoring an idiotic fight was better. I continued to do what I did, and she continued to roll her eyes and act like I had cooties.
Next- the chicken. She likes to cook pasta and mix it with pizza sauce and canned chicken breast. She usually makes a ton and when she’s finished she leaves the empty dirty bowl on the counter till I ask her to move it. Same scenario today, she cooked, she ate, she left her bowl – for half an hour. Only this time she only ate half and left half a can of unused chicken on the counter. I came along. I was hungry, we had pasta, so I put the unused chicken with the pasta, added a ton of parmesan cheese and I ate it. Pip's "criminal activity alert" radar went off big time. She came into the kitchen as I was swallowing the last bite. “What are you eating?” She looked around, “Where’s my chicken?”
“Your chicken?”
“Yeah, MY chicken.” I wanted to say – well your name wasn’t on it – but I didn’t. I decided to be more mature. “Your dirty bowl was sitting here, I thought you were done and didn’t want the rest - I ate it.” I thought her eyes were going to shoot out of their sockets. “I wasn’t done with it! I was taking a break!” Oh of course, taking a break - huuh? “I’m sorry, I thought you were done.”
“Great Mom. You ate my chicken! I can’t you believe you just ate it, you should’ve asked me first, you always assume stuff.” I wasn't going to fight over half a can of chicken OR regurgitate it so I put my bowl in the sink and walked away, back to my bedroom and put my feet up.
Get this – even Buntah was mad at me today – or she just didn’t like me. She’d been sitting in her Townhouse watching me the whole time I was on my. I finally asked Piper to hand Buntah to me. Pip got her out, brought her to me and we made for the hand – off. Buntah would have nothing of it. She scrambled to stay on Pip’s hand every time we tried to pass her between us. Pip even called Buntah such a cute “Puffy Person” (how come she gets away with calling her that but I can’t?). We tried again, and again, and again. No good. Buntah was staying with Pip. I was a teensy bit hurt so I played it up. “She doesn’t love me anymore,” I whined. Piper looked at me dead on, serious face over Buntah's serious fac and said, “That’s because you ate my chicken.” Then two of them turned with their snoods in the air and walked out of my room.