Most days, I take my son to school. It gives him a little more time in the morning, and I (usually) like our time in the car on the way there.
But not today.
He's messing with my ipod, dialing in the music he wants to hear. I figure it's going to be Blue Oyster Cult again.
I should be so lucky. Instead Primus blares. I believe I have made my feelings about Primus known in a previous post.
I tell my son to pick something else. He does. Problem is--it's Frank Zappa with Captain Beefheart.
Son proceeds to tell me that his dad told him that these are two of my least-favorite bands.
So now I'm getting the picture. Son is deliberately trying to get a rise out of me. I tell son that I will speak to dad.
I get home, go downstairs to my husbands work station. I put my hands on my hips and glare at him.
"Guess what your son wanted to hear today?" I ask.
Rhetorical question so I don't wait for a response.
Husband starts cracking up, just like son did. It's so much fun to irritate me.
Next time my son wants to hear something I can't stand, I won't give him the satisfaction of blowing a gasket.
I'll just get a bullet to bite.
No comments:
Post a Comment