So the other day, I got a request to offer up to the local paper my Valentine's Day wish. It's a little feature that will include women around town. I'm guessing I'll need to be clever to make the cut, and I was looking for advice from my co-pilot.
"I'm thinking about saying I want your father's metabolism and your long legs," I said, voicing a sincere and devout wish that I've had for a while.
I've considered selling my soul to realize those wishes. The only thing holding me back is Satan apparently isn't worried about whether he'll collect me in the end. That and I still have residual Pentecostal fear if I did actually make the official offer, Satan would take me up on it and then I'd be screwed. Not that I believe in that kind of thing anymore. Much.
Anyway, I pose the draft wish to my daughter. She said, "What's a metabo-- metaba, what's that word mean?"
I explained. She got it right away because she's trying hard to accept why I don't eat her cupcakes in the quantities I'd like. "How about you want his metabolism and my sassy mouth?" she countered.
"YOUR sassy mouth? Where do you think you get yours?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes. "I've never heard you say anything bad about anyone ever," she said.
I almost wrecked the car. And then I congratulated myself for my excellent mothering skills.
"Well I do try to behave around you and be a good influence," I said, confessing, "Sometimes when you're not around, I slip up."
She thought about it while we waited for the light to change.
"Well, there was that one time in the car, remember when that guy pulled in front of you?"
"And then there was that time when Alex was with us and you said, can I say it?"
"And that time in the yard when..."
In my defense, I did say I try.....