Lately I’ve noticed something odd has been happening in the evolutionary nature of our household. It started slowly but has manifested itself quickly sort of like alien spawn multiplying exponentially or the breeding of rabbits. Emma and I have been experiencing role reversals of the Freaky Friday type. Here are the particulars.
Our living room:
“You guys realize it’s 9:37,” said Emma.
“We know,” I said. “I just want to finish this wing on my gargoyle.” I held up my coloring book. “Do you like it?”
“It’s very nice, but it’s also past your bedtime,” Emma said, peering down at Layce who is ignoring the bedtime lecture. She’s playing Fruit Ninja on her Kindle Fire.
“Okay, when I’m finished brushing my teeth you guys have to be done,” Emma said. This brushing the teeth all on our own ploy is new. I viewed it with suspicion.
I finished my drawing. Layce closed down her game. We sighed.
Jump to Barnes and Noble in Tulsa:
“I need to go to the restroom,” I said. “I don’t know where it is.”
“I’ll show you,” Emma said.
“No, I don’t want to carry all this to the car by myself,” Layce said. She was holding two bags of books. “I need one of you to help me carry.”
Emma sighed and told me, “The restroom is in the corner. We’ll meet you at the car.”
I wandered the store in search of it. I was unsuccessful. I went back to the front of the store where Emma and Layce were waiting for me.
“Are you ready?” Layce said.
“Did you go?” Emma asked.
“I couldn’t find it,” I mumbled.
“OMG,” Emma said. She pointed. “It’s right over there.”
“I thought you meant the other corner. ”
“Come on,” she said, and led us off in the correct direction.
I got waylaid by a book display. “I didn’t know Tracey Chevalier had a new book out.”
Emma grabbed my hand and hauled me the direction of the restroom. “Okay, Mother,” I said.
Jump to the movie theater:
Layce and I went to one movie and Emma went to another in the four-plex. Afterwards, we met up with Emma in the lobby.
“How was your movie?” Layce asked.
“You wouldn’t have liked it,” Emma replied.
“It was bloody and scary,” Emma said.
“Meaning I would’ve had to pull my hoodie over my eyes and plug my ears,” I said.
“Yep. How was Jack Frost the Rise of the Guardians?” she asked.
“I cried a little at the end,” I said.
Emma rolled her eyes.
“Do you want to drive home?” I asked.
“I’m twelve, remember?”