If You Insist

The other day, my husband could not find his cell phone. Mine was upstairs, so hearing Younger turn off the shower in the bathroom, he hollered, “Hey, Younger, you got your phone in there?”

A pause. “Yeah?”

“Can you call my phone so I can find it?”

Another pause. “You mind if I dry off first?”

“No,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “We actually need you to run around the house stark naked and wet while calling the phone.”

An even longer pause. “Ooooh-kaaa-aaay. If you insist.”

Ahem.

We didn’t.

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A Little Culture

Well, we had another emergency last night.

Elder called from football practice to tell me that the coaches thought Younger had either suffered a concussion or heat exhaustion and dehydration. Apparently, he was confused and wobbly for a time. So, we spent several hours in the emergency room.

A CAT scan showed no sign of a concussion. The doctors said his brain looked normal.

Which was a relief in more ways than one.

Anyway, Younger was diagnosed with heat exhaustion and dehydration. They gave him some fluids, and he started improving quickly. And he is doing even better today.

But his poor mother is exhausted, so, today, you are getting an old story from 2004, when Elder would have been seven and Younger would have been four (and if you aren’t familiar with Ray Steven’s “The Streak,” I suggest you become so, as it is art, after all)…

Every now and then, I attempt to broaden the minds of my young men. You know, try and introduce a little culture. Hence, my two new Ray Stevens’ CDs.

So, settling beneath the wheel of the car, I turned up the volume and suggested that the boys, “Listen up. This is funny.” And the beautiful strands of “The Streak” blasted from the speakers.

But the boys didn’t “listen up.” Instead, they tried to analyze a song that was truly meant only to be enjoyed by the part of the brain connected to your grin.

“What is he wearing?”

“You mean he’s naked?”

“Why is he running?”

“Where is he running?”

“Who’s Ethel?”

“Does he have on his tennis shoes?”

“What about his socks?”

“Do people really do this?”

Why?”

“Mom, what’s a ‘shameless hussy’?”

And I gave up. Trust me, silliness loses some of its purity when filtered through a hundred questions.

But now Elder asks to hear the song about the guy running around “nekid.”

And there’s that culture I was talking about.