"Why didn't you answer it?" I ask, even though I know the answer as plan as the pillow on my cheek. "I was asleep." He says in a tone not unlike one my daughter will use when she is a teen. The defensive whine cuts through the air and I am angry.
I read an article today that kind of made me take a step back. Not literally, because I’m sitting and that’s not something I could physically do even if I wanted to. Maybe I could roll back in shock, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t convey the actual feeling I have but would look more like I was suggesting we have a rip-roaring round of office chair races on my not-carpeted floors. Which my kids have done before, so I know is possible. Maybe chair races would be more enjoyable than thinking about what kind of jobs my kids are going to have when they grow up. I might just…