My middle child has me wrapped around his middle finger…I mean his little finger--yeah, that's the expression. Case in point: This morning I went for a 40 minute run, and returned home, dripping in sweat, while the rest of the family was still sleeping. Son number two awoke and said he was thirsty. I handed him a cup of water. He frowned and said, "Hey! This is not juice! This is water!" Now, he had not specified a drink preference, and I didn't even get any bonus points for bringing him water in a cup with happy cartoon insects on it.
"I'm sorry, buddy. We're out of juice, but I'll get some later when I go to the store today," I said. His chin lowered. His bottom lip extended about two inches beyond it's normal resting place. Then slowly, he raised his sad eyes toward me just before releasing the long, mournful wail of someone whose only desire was apple juice, and he had been given water instead. Oh, the injustice of it all! "Okay! Okay! I'll run to the store and get you some juice." Instant smile.
As we all know in this town, any time you run to the gas station or grocery store looking like you just got out of bed, went for a run, or painted your entire house, that's when you will run into a minimum of three people you know. During my apple juice mission, that's exactly how many people I ran into while in my sweat-soaked T-shirt, stringy-haired glory. I really need to start buying apple juice by the case.