Wrong Answer

"Can my friends come to my grandma's house to play on the Slip'N Slide?"

Ugh!  All I wanted to do was take out the garbage.  Strike that.  All I needed to do was take out the garbage.  Now, suddenly, a mine field lay directly in my path. 

One thing you should know about Logan is that his next oldest brother is five years his senior.  Yes, we continuously remind him that older boys get to do different things than younger boys.  If we've said it once, we've said it a hundred times, "you're on a different plan, Logan."  But for all the good it does, we might as well come clean about The Great Pumpkin and The Holiday Armadillo.  If it's good enough for Justin and Ethan, it's good enough for Logan.  In fact, in his mind, it's probably better because a three-year-old won't be jaded and cynical.

What was the point I was trying to make?  Simply that Logan has yet to grasp the finer points of preschool relationships versus grade school and middle school relationships.  Other children in his demographic are unlikely to drop by unannounced or catch a ride home from the sitter.  They seldom stay for dinner on a school night or travel hundreds of miles to see your grandmother's nifty summertime yard toys.  In spite of his dismal chances, he never fails to ask anyway.  You say determination.  I say enough already.

"I don't think they'll want to go all the way to Pullman just to play on the Slip'N Slide, Logan," I said. 

Even as I said it, I knew that we weren't just about to be finished.

"But they'll like my grandma." he continued.

"Well, who wouldn't?" I said in agreement.

My brain was grappling with the illogical path that this conversation was beginning to take.  He uttered a noise of exasperation.

"Yes they will!" he insisted in affronted tones.

There was a mounting sense of stress and anxiety on Logan's part and an increasing sense of nausea on mine.  Stop the ride, I want to get off, please.  I uttered a noise of exasperation.

"I know.  I agree," I said raising my voice.

He came racing around the corner from the dining room so that he could look me right in the face.

"But she's nice!!" he shouted, fists clenched at his sides.

Oh for heaven's sake, fine!  I give up.  How did this become my fault?  You do whatever you think you need to do.  Gather your friends and start packing.  Oh, and don't forget to pack some extra crazy, it's a long car ride!

I need a drink.

- 7 March 2012