03 November 2007

Welcome to the occupation

The son is looking for breakfast.

Me: "There are three boxes of Luna Bars in the pantry."

The son, rummaging, emerges with a Luna Sunrise Vanilla Almond bar.

Me: "Why do you guys insist on eating my Luna Bars? There are Dulce de Leche and Chocolate Peppermint bars in there."

The son, indignant: "They're not yours!"

Me: "They are too mine! I buy them for me."

The son: "You say we have to share everything."

Me: "Look, I make the rules. I don't have to abide by them."

The son: "That's so cheap!"


The son, reading Luna Bar wrapper: "This has a lot of vitamins. Do I still need to take a vitamin?"

Me: "Sure. That only has part of your requirement."

The son, in the pantry, rummaging.

Me: "Make sure you take your vitamin, not mine."

The son: "I can't find them..."

More rummaging noises in the pantry.

The son, muffled: "Oh ok, here they are."


The son, referring to his father's Male Refrigerator Blindness*: "See, I'm not a complete man. I look behind things."

Me: "Thank God I left something behind in your DNA."

*defined as the blindness that strikes men when they open the refrigerator door and immediately bellow, "I can't find it!" even though they haven't actually looked for what they want.

Go listen to some good music: "Welcome to the Occupation" from the album Document by REM.

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