Proof that My Kids Are Turning Out Cooler Than I’d Ever Dared to Hope
O verheard in the car this morning:
Me: “Science plus optimism equals… what?”
Aodán: “Huh?”
Me: “That MAX car over there has ‘Science Plus Optimism’ but you can’t see the rest because of the station awning. So I am thinking delusion, right?”
Aodán: “Yeah, it could cloud your objectivity. The microbe attacks the cell, no, that’s too dark, let’s just say the microbe and the cell become friends.”
Me: “I’m an optimistic person, I just don’t think that the place for it is science…”
Aodán, in fawning assistant voice: “Sir, I am afraid there is no Happy Bunny Flower Organ.”
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Your kids kill me. that sounds like a conversation I’ll be hearing in a few years.
And people wonder why I had six of them! I can’t think of anything more enchanting than the unfolding of young minds. People always tell me that grandchildren are even more fun, but I just can’t see how that’s even possible.
Science + optimism = too many memoirs beginning: “It seemed like such a good idea at first, the new invention. Everything was going amazingly well–our lives were so much easier, so much happier than they had been, before. Until the day came, that horrible day, when everything changed….”
If there were a Happy Bunny Flower Organ, could it defuse my vertabrae so I could type again without biting my lip?