good talkin’ to ya

In my quest to prevent oldest son, a 19-year old college freshman, from plummeting into a non-industrious summer routine, I give him a jingle when the daily noon hour rolls around to make sure he’s actually perpendicular to the floor.

Sometimes he is. 

And sometimes he just pretends he’s been awake for … ohmygosh, a very long time.  And further, he was doing something mightily productive when I called.

I am Mom.  I know the truth.

But.  The one thing I love about that kid (young man) is his priceless, ever-dry sense of humor.  The conversation went something like this …

MOM: Are you up?

OLDEST SON:
Yeesh.

MOM:
You know you have to mow the lawn today, right?

OLDEST SON:
Yeah. I will.

MOM:
(picks up on subtle groaning in son’s voice not quite audible in the normal spectrum of hearing) Dude, it doesn’t take that long. Just get it done.

OLDEST SON:
Mom. It takes 5 hours.

MOM:
(furrows brow and responds in most incredulous tone of voice) Five hours?! At the most, it takes me an hour to mow the whole yard. And you’re a whole lot younger than I am!? FIVE HOURS?!!

OLDEST SON:
Yeah. One hour to mow the lawn, and four hours to procrastinate about doing it.

OLDEST MOM:
(against better judgement proceeds to chuckle which encourages bad behavior) Just get it done, please?  I gotta run.

OLDEST SON:
I will.  Mom?

MOM:
Yeah honey?

SON:
  Wanna talk to Max?

Let the record reflect … MAX IS OUR DOG.

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2 thoughts on “good talkin’ to ya

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