Sunday, May 22, 2016

I Don't Like You

"Are we having spaghetti for dinner?" Adam asked, the spaghetti noodles sticking out of the pan in his clear visual path.

In unison, Kirk and I responded, "No."

"Then what is for dinner?" he asked.  As we chuckled, he rolled his eyes.  Then he flatly proclaimed, "I don't like you."

Honestly, I don't blame him.  This sort of a response is an every day occurrence, not just from parent to child but in adult to adult interactions as well.

For example:

A few weeks ago, Kirk came up the stairs after kissing the boys goodnight.  "The kids have requested your presence."

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, Michelle and I forming two opposing points on a straight line cutting through his location.  Standing equidistant from his point, we could not see each other.  That didn't prevent us from speaking in precise unison, however, as we responded chorally, "I don't even have any presents."

I guess this is why Adam can accurately define words like "sarcastic," "facetious," and "rhetorical."  And why I sometimes find his insistence that I speak with accurate consideration of the varied connotations of each word every bit as annoying in him as it is in his father.

It's a wonder we manage to get anything done around here.  As I just mentioned that perhaps I will list the organ that is just taking up space in my music room and wonder aloud whether anyone else has organs listed on KSL, Kirk answers back, "I don't know... maybe kidneys?"

Just give it a few years, and I will have cultivated an entire army of soldiers who wield words as swords.  And it will probably be me stuck with no comeback other than, "I don't like you, either."

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