If there is one thing I learned in parenthood, it is not to ask #2 Son any questions. But if I really learned this lesson, I would devote this blogue to other topics instead! But, No, I have to continue to ask.
I was in the hall entranceway the other afternoon on Election Day. Suddenly the quiet was disturbed by what I though was a mob scene right outside my door!
“Good God! What the hell is that racket?” I thought.
I race to the door and look out the glass pane. There, standing with her back to me is Kaitlin, a very sweet young lady that is a good friend of #2 Son. She is holding a bottle of water in one hand and looking down at her feet. Looking closer, I see Mohammed Al-Yagoddahbekiddinme, (#2 Son) lying on his back, with a kitchen towel covering his whole face.
I wonder if he is dead, or has had an unfortunate accident, or as instinct is shouting at me: if I should just walk away, pretending I see nothing, hear nothing, know, Nut Ding! Suddenly, Kaitlin pours the whole bottle of water on his towel-covered face! Damn, I should have followed the walk-away plan, or the: ‘Mental Health Protection Plan’ as I like to call it, not become; so #$@^%$#@* darn inquisitive. I know it killed a cat.
I know it is killing me!
Well, Al Yagoddahbekiddinme jumps up and the two of them walk in. Mohammed has this silly grin on his face, and Kaitlin is not looking at me, just staring ahead, avoiding eye contact!
Me: “What the hell was that all about?”
Mohammed: “Watermumble.”
Me: “WHAT?”
Mohammed: “Water boarding”
God, grant me the strength not to ask, and when I do, to turn a deaf ear, or at least not pay attention to what I’ll hear.
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