To the Barber:
“Hey Joey! I’ll take my usual!”
[I‘m standing at the kitchen counter frosting cookies and Dean walks behind me on his way through the kitchen the kitchen…]
Dean: Ooooh! That cookie looks good!
Momo: Which one?
Dean: [comments over his shoulder on his way out the door] The one that’s made with love.
[Jaw drops from both parents]
Momo: [unconvincingly trying to explain why Santa Claus’s image cannot be captured on film… but only on Christmas Eve because otherwise, he takes photos with kids all through the month of December…🤦♀️]
Dean: Why can’t you just say it, Mommy?! Why can’t you just say the truth?!
Momo: What truth?
Dean: That you and daddy buy the presents and put them under the tree!
Momo: …
Daddy: …
Momo: …
Momo: It is true. Daddy and I have always made Christmas magic for you. Are you okay with that?
Dean: Okay?! I’m fine!!! Christmas is weeks away! I’ll probably forget everything you said by then!
At least he admits that he doesn’t listen to us!
Dean is sitting at the kitchen counter, his homework binder open in front of him. There is a ramekin in front of him filled with tiny tortilla strips; you know, the thin strips that come on salads. Every so often, he reaches into the bowl and eats one.
Dean: These things are really good and so are you, Mommy!
Mommy: …
Dean: Not to eat or anything
Mommy: …
Dean: You’re good to love, is what I’m saying.
Who is this kid?!?!
Dean: Why are you wearing a button shirt today?
Mommy: Just what I wanted to be wearing today.
Dean: You look like an angry mom.
Mommy: … An angry mom? Where do you see those? On TV?
Dean: Yeah… and in front of me now too.
Mommy: …
Dean: Yeah. That’s the one.
Mommy: …
Dean: Or a boss. You look like a boss too.