This one is funny because I loved it so much I had hoped to write it down even though, at the time, I was sure I would remember it. And then weeks down the road I couldn't and I looked, and I couldn't find it written anywhere. So i tried desperately to recall it and piece it together into something using the meager scraps of my memory, knowing it was not going to get very close to re-creating the actual picture. Frustrating! I kept bringing it up, asking those involved what they remembered, not getting much, wondering if all hope was, indeed, lost.
Until I DID find it, on my phone, two days ago. With glee I declared my retrieval. The problem was I now had the punchline but could not remember the setup, a detail I would have thought (and apparently did think) not super necessary. Being all of this as it may, I am now going to attempt to reconstruct this gem of a moment I had with Julian in the kitchen coming up on one month ago. It's one of those moments where I feel a combination of emotions: frustration, defensiveness, and then pride, amusement, and ultimately, love.
I was standing in front of the refrigerator trying to figure something out. Some solution to some problem. Julian was to my right at the sink. I believe I asked him to help me and explained details of the situation or my thought process on figuring this thing out. OMG I think I remember!!! I had one of those bamboo reusable Swedish towels. They're awesome, by the way. And I keep ours hanging on the side of the island. He had spilled some water from the fridge. I tried to get him to use the Swedish towel and he resisted for some reason, (do you like how I'm still trying to recall the details. This is how I always tell stories or recount dreams) thinking it had to be wet first? I am not sure. I think I explained that it'll absorb it all and it's fine.
He responded, "You don't have to talk to me like I'm an idiot. But that's not gonna work. You have to get it wet first." Which... is untrue. (??) But the tone was maximum condescension.
Immediately all of the moments flashed into my head where he has responded to my sincere inquiries with extreme impatience and "DUH" attitude. Defending myself, I explained how the Swedish towel works, since he seemed to be unfamiliar. And then I said,
"And that's funny, because you're talking to me like I'M an idiot. And if anyone's an idiot, it's YOU--for thinking this wouldn't work."
And he swiftly returned, "Well then YOU'RE the idiot for thinking an idiot could do it."
And I laughed and laughed because he was so quick, because that's how we talk to each other, logic perhaps mixed with insults and humor and I definitely stand by what I said even though yeah, I guess called my son an idiot, and was just so pleased with that whole interaction.
Epilogue: Feeling some fondness for the time that he, as a 6yo, was reading Calvin & Hobbes and asked me what "i-d-o-t" spelled" (hee hee hee) and I said "It spells i-dot. But don't say it, it's a bad word" and then, knowing he would file it away, waited patiently and gleefully until that fateful day when he'd pull it out and, thinking it a real zinger, use it on someone. Which happened, and my cup overflowedeth. "What an i-dot!" God bless us, everyone.