They Keep Coming Back

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It's a weird dynamic when the kid who has been out and running about returns for a couple of days.

My poor, beautiful wife...

...is taking a non-stop beating from the two younger dopey bastards.

"Mom loves Matt the most," is one of the kinder ribbings they give her.

"I think she's really in love with him," the other one will say and then it's off to the races.

It drives her crazy.

It makes it worse when I laugh along with them.

Matt came through the door on Friday evening. He's not a big fan of steak

(because he's a dope and also because he once tried to swallow a 14 ounce piece of it without biting it and it got stuck in his wind-pipe)

...but...

Anywhoha.

Kathy had prepared chicken for him and the poor, lovely girlfriend of his who is being lambasted by said dopey bastards mentioned above.

"Mom made her boyfriend chicken," one of them said.

And they laughed and laughed.

Of course, I'm happy to see the kids walking through the door all the time, but I can't let on.

Matt waved at me as he entered.

"Did you finish weed-whacking yet?" I asked.

He responded with:

"The Yankees suck."

(Have I mentioned he's a moron who didn't put a single bite mark in a piece of beef he was supposed to be eating?)

Another of the dopes came around the corner and started lambasting Matt about the fact that:

"Your Mommy was worried about you every day."

And so it goes.

We will always worry about them.

We will always play our roles.

And certainly we will laugh through the flying insults.

(Just like we planned it).

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