“Honey, what happened to make Avery squeal?”
“Barnaby.”
“Oh, did he scratch her?”
“No. I think he just got a nail caught on her nose.”
“Oh, he didn’t scratch her. His nail just got caught on her nose.“
“Yeah, I think that’s what happened. I wasn’t really in here so I couldn’t see it.”
“So you think the cat’s claw got hooked in the skin on Avery’s nose?”
“Ya, I mean look at the mark. That’s not a scratch.”
“More of a puncture really. Right?”
That last line got me a dirty look.
I’m not crossing judgement or anything, but I think a little bit of the difference between moms and dad is evidenced in that snippet of our morning exchange. I subscribe to the idea that kids need the rough housing with dad and cuddling with mom. I also think that as a mom, living with a dad, and loving him beyond compare, I need a little bit of, “Ya, that’s a Mars and Venus bit of humor there.” I fully intend to return the favor for him 15 or so years from now.
“A $75 undershirt?”
“Yup.”
“But it’s under the whatever. No one will see it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So why does she need it?”
“She just does.”
“Why? It’s not like it’s a part of the outfit.”
“As a matter of fact it is specifically what completes the ensemble.”
Be ready. I am sure he’ll come to you to confirm that I am out of my blessed mind.