I Don’t Know How to Respond to That
Sometime during the years we had four teenagers in the house, the kids and I developed a unique method for communicating.
3 X 3 Post-it notes left on the kitchen table, morning, noon or night were just big enough for quick notes, pleas, questions, etc. between me and the strangers sharing our house and using all the damned towels.
Not exactly heartfelt, soul-searching types of communications you see in Lifetime movies, but we got our points across.
Until the day that my oldest daughter left this one on the table:
“Mom, where k-y?”
I must admit I had no idea how to respond to a request for K-Y from my then 17-yr. old daughter.
Of course, my first reaction (okay, second reaction – my first was why is she asking me this question) was to Google chastity belts – they still exist, I went against one of my own Internet rules here and actually asked Uncle Google about ‘chastity belts’, knowing there’s not a ready vat of brain bleach on the stove this morning ::shudders:: that’s how much I love you people – but quickly decided that was just a tad bit too Middle Ages even for me.
Instead I responded on my way to work that morning with:
And waited all day to find out the answer. Was my baby girl involved in some kind of kinky activity that I really didn’t want to know about…even though I had to? If so, did I really believe she’d leave me a long note about her new job as Busty McChesterson and how it was a vital tool of ‘the trade’, and didn’t we keep a supply and if not, why not?
The mind raced, back and forth, all day.
When I got home, I raced to the kitchen table to see if I’d gotten a reply.
I bought a bigger Post-It note pad the very next day.
Posted on September 14, 2012, in Maybe I'm The Only One Who Thinks This Is Funny, Too Much Information, What the flippity-flop? and tagged funny, kids, kids stories, whiskey.tango.foxtrot. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.