As I climbed into the front seat of the car for the ride to school, my daughter Julia nudged me and said “I wanted to sit in the front.”
Ignoring her, I climbed in and responded “You might want to, but you’re not going to.”
Julia clambered into the back seat of my wife’s Altima, mumbling “One day I’m gonna.”
Naturally {for this is the way of things in our household} , I responded “You’re not gonna.” I felt no need to complete the correction, Julia is sharp as a tack.
My wife leapt into the fray, words blazing across the darkness like bright rounds of tracer, “You mean ‘going to’.”
Mistakenly thinking she was agreeing with me, I nodded in satisfaction at her unexpected support and said “Yes, that’s what I said.”
“No”, she responded, “You said ‘you’re gonna’.”
Belatedly I realized she had probably not heard Julia’s mumbled words, and that her tracer had been aimed square at me – her intended victim, {Are you starting feel sympathy for my plight yet, for I surely am.} I held up the white flag of truce in vain hope of a peaceful resolution to her unwarranted, pre-emptive attack on the innocent, and explained “I said I’m going to. Julia said I’m gonna.”
Julia corrected me, “You said ‘you’re not gonna’”, and indeed I had…
I shook my head, lowered reason’s weary flag, and sighed in wounded knee. Yes, terrible things were done in times past – I know, I watched the video with my son. In fact, I’m ashamed to admit I committed a few atrocities myself. How times have changed, my kids can’t have a bush pig for a pet. Bacon, is such a sweet animal. My tea tastes bitter, I really dislike not having time enough to steep it…
My wife interrupted my reverie, “Your problem is that you’ve got so many voices inside your head you don’t know which one’s speaking aloud”.
Blinking in surprise, voice portraying my inner calm, I said “My head is filled with serene tranquility.”
Delight in her voice, Julia murmured “Oh, you mean a void?”
I laughed, as I often do to hide grievous pain {well actually I thought Julia was really witty, but this is my version of the truth, so I’m the protagonist}.
My wife snorted, “Sometimes you’re such a fool…”
Julia added, “Yes, an impetulant fool.”
Lips curling in a sardonic smile, I entered my preferred mode of defense – attack, and exclaimed “HAH! Impetulant is not even a word! But I like it… you should use it more often.”
We drove on, everyone chuckling at their inner thoughts – three people, three versions of truth.
{footnote, my wife is really not the wicked person I intimate she is. However this is my blog, and my ever so slightly modified version of reality – and, well, having an antagonist is fun! Frankly, I think I’m remarkably generous in granting her that much sought after role in many of my little tales.}
{footnote to a footnote. Did I happen to mention they’re all the pure, embellished truth? They are :).)
{footnote to the footnote, of a footnote. Nope, I’ve got nothing… just liked the way that looked. What’s that up there, there, at the top of the page… I think it says smaple, or something with an s, can’t quite make it out. Ha! got you again!}
