Post #242

All signs indicate my habit of over-disclosing is a recessive gene in M 'n' m. Or dormant or untriggered DNA or whatever. Forgive me; I took AP Chem and not AP Bio. Both M 'n' m are seemingly loathe to talk about themselves. At least to me. You wouldn't believe the stimulating questions I pepper them with only to hear "no" and "fine" and, exclusively from Michael, "what's for dinner?" I noticed the kids are talkative about Minecraft and Clash of Clans, though. Little bastards. (Good thing I have small readership here.) And Michael isn't little anymore. He officially makes Jeanette look small, although she is small.

I ask the kids what mind-blowing people and histories and theories and things they're talking about in science and social studies and literature and their eyes glaze over. They are bored. Maybe it's the caffeine; the fact I'm on it and they aren't. "Your lives need to be sung about!" I tell them. They look at me like I'm crazy which is appropriate, good modest kids, M 'n' m, but I need some shit for writing practice here :)

When I see the wear-and-tear that my kids put on my car after a few years of ownership, only a few years, I think, "Dear God, what are kids doing to me and every parent I know?! The upholstery in my car is stained and trampled. It's stretched in some places, sagging and balding in others. It looks nothing like the day I bought it. There is stuff and garbage everywhere the day after I clean it out. My car looks worn and beaten and worth a fraction what it once was. But you know what? I think the car is happy.