conversations

I left this message on my Mom’s voice mail:

“Hi, I need to ask a favour or my patient husband will divorce me. We need a date night. I’ll make ravioli on Sunday if you can watch the kids for me.”

Yes, I am low, bribing her like that. And I know she’ll do it because if we got divorced, she’d just have to do it more so it’s like preventative medicine in her books. Her words, too, when she called me back.

And Addison says to us, “I need to go to Ventures tonight. In the by-laws, it says I can’t miss three meetings in a row, so I’d better show up.” Here he pauses in his lunch to lift his eyes and grin across the table at us. “Although I do suppose I have a good reason…” Later, we realize there’s no way he can get into his regualtion polo shirt. “I’m still going, ” he tells me, “They’ll be so glad I’m there, they won’t care what shirt I have on.”

Last night, Emma was chattering on again and again about skin and how it holds your slippery heart in, and how you have eyeballs in your head, next to your brain. Then abruptly she switched topics and asked me about the wiring inside the walls. I explained how the wires were inside the walls, and the walls protected the wires and us. “Oh I know!” her whole face brightened, “The walls are like skin for the house!”