Our almost 18 year old has requested that we take her to a horror film when we go to Baltimore to take her out for dinner and a movie tomorrow. I tried to explain to her that I had watched the news last night and didn’t need any more horror in my life, now or ever. Kids are so insulated from the real world, even at 18, that they feel the need to add artificial stress to their lives, I guess. I’m for seeing Alvin and the Chipmunks, myself. It will probably be more stress getting her into a theater for that than watching the gore and guts screamer she wants to see.
Our almost sixteen year old made herself an omelet. I know because she left the dirty pan in the sink. This is encouraging. It has moved into the sink instead of being left on the hot burner to harden into an impenetrable mass. I’m confident, at this rate, that she will learn the mystery of detergent and a rag before leaving the nest. She may learn to brown hamburger and drain the grease into a used tofu container, too. Possibly even how to boil macaroni.
This is the week, between Christmas and New years, when almost nothing gets done, when it is useless to spend the day at work, making phone calls to people who took the week off, but it’s too cold, dark and rainy out to clean the gutters or even rake up those last few fallen leaves that are turning black and killing patches of the lawn. It’s a good time to write a semi depressed blog post, I guess.