Messing with their minds

Lunch. At the picnic table.

Henry: Daaad!  Mum says she can't blink, is that true?

I look at my bride. She is smirking.

Me: Of course it's true.

Erin: My parents were so busy, they never had time to teach me.

Jane: You have to learn how to blink?

Erin: Of course! Don't you remember all the hours we worked on that?

Blank stares.

Me: They were so young. They wouldn't remember.

Kids: Wow.

Me: It's kind of like how I can't move my arms above here.

I raise my straightened arms to about 30 degrees.

Me: I think the doctor said I have some sort of bone-shield covering the socket of my shoulder joint.

Henry: You're making this up!

Me: (calmly) Name one time you've seen me raise my arms higher than this.

They think for a moment.

Me: See? You can't name one time.

Henry: Does it hurt?

Me: (shrugging) No. I just can't do it. You learn to live with it.

The conversation fizzles out. The kids run to the yard to play.

Erin is still wearing her smirk.

Erin: Have we crossed some sort of parenting line?

Me: I think, maybe.

3 comments:

Misty said...

Hahaha. I love it.

By the way, I love that you call Erin your bride. :)

Dave Atkinson said...

In this context, it means co-conspirator.

Lisa and Ty said...

messing with your kids is kind of like the Power of Greyskull.