Sliced

“Relax.” My youngest son tells me. I wasn’t aware that I was uptight – I just asked a rhetorical question. I must have looked confused to him. “Mom, really” he says – “Relax.”

There must have been a point in time when I passed through the portal of being “all knowing and all-seeing Mom” to “Mind it old lady, I suspect everything you even think about being up to.”

He’s is our mental alchemist child. The child, who probes, studies, suspects, and projects probable outcomes in relation to any situation at hand. It’s not often I get the opportunity to outwit the witty one of the family.

Until one day. The day fate handed me a cherry pie and a fork to eat it with.

Coming in from work, I noted the shears in the living room were hanging not exactly upside down, but re-threaded by the bottom hem of the drapery. The tag was now at the top and the pole was askew. In addition there was drywall dust on the floor and the couch was sagging.

Raising my eyebrow, I asked, who broke the couch? “Your other son” the mental magician tells me.

It was possible. His older brother, on the autism spectrum, has the gumption to pull the couch up to the front window to keep watch for the school bus. He’s not a little guy, but 6’ 4” and around 250 pounds. It wasn’t a luxurious couch by any means. Functional and modern looking, yet cheap, made with pressed wood bones and faux suede skin.

I didn’t ask his brother, not wanting to embarrass him or make him feel awkward if it was his height and weight at the core of the question regarding the couch. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

A few days go by, and it’s the weekend. I sit in the front room – looking closer at the drapery and the discombobulating effect on the decor. I pulled off the sheer, flipped it over, re-threaded the pole and sat back down.

Interesting……very, interesting.

The Bichons of the family sit on the couch when it’s not occupied by the oldest son waiting for the bus. It’s their perch for viewing the evil joggers and passer-by people who must be barked at. It’s their job to watch and bark – and they take their career seriously.

My kids love those dogs. We all have floor time with toys to tug on and finger guns to shoot them with – it’s big fun in our home. Maybe too big of fun sometimes?

I changed seats to the dining room table, turned and looked my youngest son straight in the eye. My husband, his father was in the kitchen making dinner (he’s a keeper!). I went ahead and laid out my hypothesis in plain, simple language – complete with a “walk-thru” visual aid for the young Einstein.

“Hi Sweetheart.” “What, Mom?” I swept my eyes up and over to the front room bay window. “I bet you were playing with the girls in the den. It got a little wild and Annie chased Lilly back to the couch in the front window for safety sake. You followed, jumping on the couch in the front room with them. You lost your balance and grabbed the shears by instinct. You, by virtue of simple physics, pulled them right off the rod. You then lost your balance and tipped off the couch. In the process the bones of the girls perch cracked and broke in half. You, sensing your life ending for being so careless, re-strung the curtain and blamed your brother for the infraction. Am I right?”

My son, for once in his teenaged life, slipped up. Eyes HUGE, “How did you know that?” “I’m psychic and you’re busted.” He laughed in amazement – and congratulated me on my psychic prowess – turned away and then back to me saying “Seriously, HOW did you know that was what happened?”

“Care for a slice of pie Sweetheart?” ~ Wendy Frye

“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” ~ Albert Einstein

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