Our mid-winter school vacation has ended. I spent 11 days trapped inside a small apartment with my kids. We had four snowstorms last week alone.
Coincidentally, our electronic “human-ignorer” gadgets decided to collectively shit the bed. My laptop froze. The tablet became possessed. Netflix was toast.
My toaster still worked. Thank god.
So we were forced to be together. In each other’s presence. Communicating and using eye contact and stuff. I had deep convos with my 11-year-old son.
“Go Fish, grandma.”
“Hey! I’m not that old!”
“Yes you are.”
“I’m still young!”
“Well…you’re kinda young…”
“Kinda, but not really at all.” [hard stare] “Because you’re old.”
So when my son told me he didn’t want to go back to school this morning, the words, “If you don’t go, I’ll be arrested and thrown in jail” just flew out of my mouth.
But thank god our dryer broke.
When your clothes…
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