After tucking the kids in last night, MC came downstairs and said, “Bubba said you wanted to talk to me about something?” In our house this typically means that one of the kids is trying to finagle their way into being allowed to do something which I must then debate with MC. My response to this particular request was, “Huh, wha? I’m supposed to be talking to you about something?” I had no clue what it was we were supposed to be discussing. I racked my brain trying to remember if Bubba and I had talked about anything but my mind was a complete blank (I know, big surprise, right?). Then suddenly I had a vague recollection of Bubba talking about wanting to earn money by walking dogs. At least, I think that’s what he was talking about.
Apparently there is a lesson that my little minions have yet to learn about their Mommy. If Mommy has a book in her hand and her eyes are on it, you no longer exist. MC is catching on, I believe, but I have had to admit that, although I did just answer questions and nod at correct intervals, I couldn’t recall a single word of the conversation that we just had and could he please repeat everything he just said? Reading is sacred escape time for me. I don’t just read my books, I am completely absorbed in them. The world could come crashing down around me but as long as I can still read the words on the page, I wouldn’t even flinch.
So I was lost in my book when Bubba started chatting away. He didn’t talk until he was 4 and it’s like he’s always trying to make up for lost time. When this kid starts talking, he doesn’t shut up! Most of the time I play Sainted Mommy and listen to everything he says, make eye contact and respond appropriately. But last night was MC’s night to tuck in the kids which meant after riding herd on the minions to complete their chores, I checked out. When Bubba started talking about wanting to earn money (to buy stink bombs, by the way), I listened dutifully for a moment or two but that book was calling out to me. It was a sound I couldn’t resist. I do remember Bubba asking me something which I might have responded with a generic “I’ll talk to Daddy”, but I really couldn’t be sure. I do know that I told him we would talk about it in the morning, to which he answered with a very firm, “AFTER breakfast.” Sure, sure, honey…whatever.
The only thing is, what was “it”? Were we still on the dog walking thing? I do remember him asking if he could babysit toddlers. Heavens to Betsy, let’s pray I didn’t encourage him in that one. Were we going to be discussing stink bombs? ‘Cause that one’s pretty cut and dry–no stink bombs in my house. I really have no idea what he said since I’d been lost in fiction. He pretty much lost me at “hello”. I love the kid, I really do, but he can go on and on. And on. And don’t forget–there was a book involved.
So far today, he hasn’t asked if Daddy and I have talked about “it” and I hope he doesn’t remember. But I’m thinking I should probably set down a cardinal rule that if Mommy’s nose is buried in a book, go ask Daddy.