Friday, August 13, 2010
Does Not Play Well With Others
My mother loves to whip this story out from time to time, you know, to embarrass me in social situations. I'm pretty sure she told it at my graduation party, my wedding shower, and my baby shower.
It goes something like this:
Bethy (that's me) and her friend Jessica (my friend since we were in diapers) were playing in the backyard at Jessica's house. Jessica had this tiny play kitchen that she would play in for hours, making all manner of make believe goodies. Well, on this particular day, Jessica was playing "Chef" in her kitchen, and because no other suckers friends were around, the role of "Sous Chef" fell to Bethy.
So Jessica starts doling out responsibilities, telling Bethy, "Stir that (imaginary) stew in that (imaginary) pot, don't let it burn!" Bethy paid no attention to her, because she didn't like being told what to do...by anyone. So Jessica starts to tell her again, "Stir the stew! Stir the stew! IT'S BURNING! YOU NEED TO -- " Bethy turns, holding up her chubby little hand and says, "There ain't no spoon, there ain't no stew, and I AIN'T stirring it."
Okay, so we've established I don't enjoy being told what to do. Fast forward, twenty-five years later: Husband comes home from work early, and brings lunch.
"Hey, thanks for bringing lunch home, babe," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "Um, where's my large drink?"
"We're sharing this one," he says, taking a big sip and then setting it on the table.
"But I specifically asked for you to bring me a drink."
"Yeah, but I thought we could share," he says nonchalantly.
I start to twitch a little. "Seriously? You didn't get me my own?" He's just joking. Yeah, this has to be just a cruel joke. I mean, he knows how much I love my Coke (and you can find out, too, just read here).
"Yeah, I'm serious. I only got us one," he says, tucking into his sandwich like it's no big deal.
I say nothing more, sitting down to eat because I'm in a hurry to get to a party. When I get up to leave, I pick up the Coke to take it with me.
"Are you seriously taking that with you?" he says, eyeing the drink in my hand.
"Yep, I am," I say, and walk out the door.
You'd have thought that my mother would've warned my future husband that I don't play well with others. Apparently, she didn't.
Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.