On Flexibility

As he pulled into the grocery store parking lot to buy ice cream on our way home from a day trip (to look at more cidery property), I asked the Man I Married what he was going to do about grocery bags. I keep loads of reusable bags in my car—always have, but I do especially now that Seattle charges for plastic or paper bags from the store. MIM keeps no bags in his car, which perhaps explains why he often buys beer and nothing else.

“I’m going to buy a bag,” MIM said, giving me his exaggerated horrified look. “I am going to bend over and take that whole five cents…”

The Little Monkey was in the back seat, so MIM wisely did not finish the sentence about taking that nickel right up his behind.

“Yes!” I said loudly and cheerfully. “You are going to bend over and pick up that nickel from the ground in order to pay for the bag!”

“Yeah, Dad!” LM chimed in. “Except soon you’re going to be too old to bend over to pick up those nickels! You’d better start bending over more, Dad!”

The Little Monkey is so proud of himself about his quip that he keeps repeating it: “Dad’s going to have to get better about bending over! He could be missing some dimes!”

“So right,” I agree.

Which reminds me: MIM turned 50 last year and he has yet to schedule that milestone procedure involving picking up nickels. I can understand why it’s not high up on anyone’s list, but guys have it easy compared to what we women have been tolerating since puberty. And if parenting is about anything, it’s about flexibility. Time for him to bend over and take one for the team. Not that I’ll be saying that in front of LM.

(Believe me, you don’t want me to attach a photo to this post.)

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