Just because you are an adult, doesn't mean you stop acting like a child. Proof is in the evidence--3 stories to be exact.
1. A few days ago, Ben was stomping around upstairs unable to find any clean undershirts. As I was busy with the kids, I figured he had looked in all possible locations (given his habit of stuffing clothes in random drawers) and felt guilty for not keeping an eye on the laundry baskets.
Ha. After he left, I went upstairs to put clothes away and, lo and behold, found a huge stack of clean white undershirts in his bottom drawer. Truth is, I am a "good looker" (a quote from my 8-year-old sister), and Ben, well, he just isn't.
2. At a student fair, Ben and I dallied around checking out all the booths. While he was busy signing up for a club, my eyes were drawn to the posters in the neighboring booth. Displaying images of babies with phrases like "is this [baby] really harmful?" caught my attention. Considering my opinions on abortion, this isn't too surprising. It was a pro-life organization for doctors and I couldn't help but ask the couple running the booth about their feelings on education. Ben saw where I was, and who I was talking to, and came over to investigate. (Really he came over to mediate.) We engaged in a respectful discussion until they quoted a statistic completely out of context (I won't bore you with the details). Ben noticed the look in my eye, observed my stance, and recognized he needed to intervene. Like a parent would do with an inquisitive pre-schooler (who asks questions like, "Momma, why is that kid brown?"), he grabbed my elbow and said, "time to go!'
3. Last night, after Ben came home from studying (and after watching Breaking Bad), Ben and I stayed up to talk. We were sitting on the porch enjoying the nice air when I decided to go back inside and grab a glass of water. I tried the door--locked. Neither of us had keys on us and the garage was closed. So we trooped around to the back and tried the back door. No luck. We had locked ourselves out.
We had no other options except to use the back window. So Ben took out the screen, opened the window, and boosted me into the house. (Imagine doing this while under the influence and/or extremely exhausted.) Wildly laughing, and completely off-balance, I managed to tumble onto the kitchen counter. When I landed, I had to stop giggling before I could open the door and let Ben in the house.
Yep, a couple of teenagers. Who also happen to be in their twenties, with two kids, and in grad school.
And now you know.
Care to share any stories?
This week's theme (for the supportive parents writing prompt) is sleep. Do your kids have a sleep schedule? How did you and/or your child handle changes? Need to vent about your exhaustion? Join me on Wednesday as I talk about Emily's evolving sleep habits--the good and the bad.
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