Mildly Amused

Henry and Miranda spend hours of our lives (hours I will never reclaim) discussing which animals they will buy when they are adults. And don’t live with me. And don’t expect me to sleep at their house. I may be prematurely vocal on this issues, but I am very allergic to cats and dogs and rabbits, hamsters, horses, ferrets, etc all make me sneeze. I love you dearly, my children, but not enough to sleep with a cat. Currently, the plan is that we can meet at restaurants.

Henry has also started to think about rich and poor. In the grand tradition of Miranda’s district attorney questioning, Henry tries to pinpoint our socioeconomic position – are we rich? No? Then we are poor? No? What are we – guilty as charged your honor.

These ideas converged yesterday:

H: I am going to buy a tortoiseshell cat when I gets older. [we have a board book of pets and the tortoiseshell cat intrigues him].

Me: OK, that’s a pretty cat. When you and I don’t live together, you can certainly have a cat if you want.

H: I think I’ll wait until I gets married.

I nod and smile.

H: I’ll bring my wife with me when I buy it. Because Papa doesn’t have any money, does he?

Me: Well, Papa has some money. We share it. Will your wife have the money?

H: Yes.

I find his idea that the moms / wife controls the money hilarious. Rob makes the money – he works full-time. I work freelance a little bit. I do tell the children I work and they see me deposit my checks. And spend money. groceries adn Target and I usually pay for dinners out, but that money comes from the joint checking account. But it may be really funny to me because Henry is determined to figure out who is the boss of the family. Darned TMBG Malcolm in the Middle “You’re not the boss of me” song. Henry is sure, because Rob has assured him, that Papa is the boss of Miranda, Henry and Arabella. But Mom, that’s tougher. We have compromised by saying Grandma is the boss – she even has a keychain to prove it.

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As we headed to McDonald’s for an ice cream and happy meal toy run – long sad story involving leaving the toy at the restaurant and the natural consequences being unacceptable – Miranda wondered why McD’s didn’t have chocolate ice cream. Rob and I guessed they hadn’t had twist or chocolate cones in 20 years? 25 years? And yet, Rob, the ice cream cone connoisseur, said he hears people ask for chocolate all the time. So we started thinking about all of the things that it would amuse us to order at McD’s:

a pork chop sandwich

Asparagus and green bean burger

chicken fried steak

collard greens on the side

ribs

truffles

pasta

Miranda had to top us by saying we should order our meals to drink through a straw. And eat our soda with a fork.

The Kids