Recess: Stories From the Home Front

Recess means we take a break and play. It’s important to do that once in a while.

~//~

So. We were stopped for a lunch break during our eleven-hour drive back from holidays. I don’t remember what I was talking about, but it likely involved far more vocabulary exhibition and details than anyone else felt was warranted.

Daughter said to her brother, “Don’t you think Mom is being overly pedantic?”

I am otherwise occupied with my salad and asked, “How could someone be underly pedantic?”

Daughter rolled her eyes and added to her brother, “See what I mean?”

~//~

While I was still at university, hubby and son came to visit me overnight at my campus apartment. I lived 125 miles/ 200 kilometers west of them, and concerned about what to pack, hubby emailed me and asked,

“What’s the weather like in your apartment?”

(In my apartment?) I wonder, and replied: “Ambient daytime temperatures correllating with outside weather, cooling in the evening, with increasing dark. No rain predicted inside, aside from brief showers in the bathroom.”

~//~

I got back in town Friday evening, post-dinner. Unloaded my gear and then began throwing clothes through the laundry. Opened up the clothes dryer and find two towels, a pair of boy’s boxers, a tee shirt, and a pair of socks. Obviously not a full load. Mental gears turn, and I hollered over the foyer railing to my son in the office/computer area, “Hey!”

“Yah?”

“Are you washing your clothes and then just pulling out the pieces as you need them?”

“Yeah. No one ELSE does laundry around here,” he explained, meaning his dad, the only other weekday resident.

I giggled; this is such an efficient geekboy thing to do: store the clean laundry in the dryer until needed. “I’m putting your clean stuff atop your dresser,”

“Okay,” answered my laconic son.

~//~

A recent dinner conversation, over a nice batch of tacos with sides of guacamole and pineapple:

Dad is hard of hearing, and for some possibly-unrelated reason sometimes uses the wrong word: “How was the walk home from school? Were the streets paved?”

Our son, defaulting to that aspie literal-minded thing: “Were the streets PAVED? Of course they were.”

Dad clarifies, “Was the snow shovelled.”

Son shrugs, “Sometimes.”

Dad, cheerfully: “It’s melted a bit.”

I can’t think of anything to say to this statement of the obvious. And you wonder why some of us just don’t get into chit-chat …

 

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