Today is a snow day, Younger’s favorite kind of day. He’s been wishing for snow since August, and, apparently, three inches of ice works just as well. Whatever keeps him from the education he insists he doesn’t need is welcomed with ecstatic joy by him. And both the boys were relishing a few extra minutes of sleep as I dug myself out of my garage this morning.
Then, much later, I called home to ask a question about lunch.
“Mom,” Younger said, full of exasperation when he heard my voice on the phone. “We’re in the same house.”
“I’m not calling you from inside the house, Younger,” I responded, my own voice raising a decibel in disbelief. “I’m at work!”
“Oh.” He paused. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
“It’s almost noon!”
“I thought you must be really, really tired.”
I don’t know if I was more insulted by the implication that I was a slug that slept until noon or I was a slug that used a phone to talk to people in my own house.
But this I do know…
I am one offended slug.