That’s Not Something You Hear Every Day #23
I was frazzled, trying to get the house and food ready for Ken’s 50th birthday party. I walked over to the computer to look up my peanut butter cookie recipe. Jonathan stayed behind in the kitchen, licking out the bowl containing the almond bar batter I had just made.
“You have a customer,” he called, nonchalantly. He was referring to my flower stand. I should have been outside tending to it, rather than running around like a chicken with my head cut off, making sweets.
I knew he was lying. “I do not,” I said firmly.
“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “I just heard a car drive up.”
Erg, the price you pay for having not one, but three sarcastic children… you never know when they’re telling the truth.
I went outside to double-check, and sure enough, there was no one there. The split second before I turned around to go back into the house, I knew that Jonathan had locked the door on me. There he stood, peering out at me through the window, his tongue continuing to lick the almond batter off the beater.
“Jonathan, you open this door immediately,” I commanded, in as authoritative tone as I could manage.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha.”
“I mean it, Jonathan. I have a butt-load of stuff to do yet before Dad’s friends show up. Open this door.”
“Ha ha ha.”
Why did kids think it was so funny to exasperate their parents? Jonathan was particularly good at it. “Open this door right now!” I barked out.
“What’s the magic word?” Jonathan replied sweetly, mocking my voice from several years ago when I was trying to impress manners upon him and his siblings.
“Open this door or I’ll break your face. That’s the magic word.”
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