The Poison Pickle

February 4, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

I am about finished being the lunch-packer for my two high school daughters. They will be most pleased when mother is again putting her loving touch on things.

One is extremely analytical. She lifts her lunch box before leaving home for a weight check and can tell if I shorted her one Dorito. I have no idea how she does it.

The other? Well, she’s a target.

Let me explain. My eldest went to college and left a void. While incredibly intelligent, she is a trusting and gullible soul, which leaves lots of room for good-natured hazing. And I always say, “If you can’t haze your own kids, who can you haze?” Our youngest is going through enough and the analytical child is dubious of everything; which leaves our little freshman hypochondriac to fill the void.

Enter the stray pickle.

I started putting a pickle in a baggie and adding it to her lunch the other day. She loves pickles. After a couple of pickle surprises, I got this text, “Are you sure those pickles are good? I checked the date and they expired in August.”

My response, “Sure they’re good. That’s what pickling does. Those things will be good for fifty years.”

Then, an idea began fermenting like that old jar in the back of the fridge. It’s time for some fun! I carefully planned my ruse, waited a couple of hours to set up my trap, and fired this off, “You didn’t eat that pickle did you?”

Nothing. I could picture her sitting in English Lit wondering what that could mean. Five minutes passed and I sent another.

“I read something about pickle poisoning that scares me…”

“WHAT????” along with several wide-eyed emojis. 😨😨😨😨😨😨

“Sorry, gotta go into a meeting. Back in an hour.”

Pickle

An hour. What would she do in an hour? I giggled at my desk wondering if she would look up pickle poisoning on the internet, the ultimate source of truth. That’s been covered! I had already entered a finely crafted Wikipedia article detailing diagnosis, treatment, and prognosis. I even created a Facebook support group that garnered two sad members almost immediately. Yes, I could visualize my third-born wandering aimlessly into the woods where I waited to pull the net that would lift her into my trap. This was going to be awesome!

After the hour expired, I sent this one, “You okay? No swelling or tingling in your hands or feet?”

A long lapse made me wonder if there really was something wrong with the lunch I’d packed. There is nothing worse than sitting beside a baited trap while no unsuspecting quarry wanders past. It seemed like forever before she replied.

“You gonna drive me to ballet?” she finally asked.

“Yes… if you are still okay by then.”

“Oh, I texted Meredith and she told me not to believe anything you said.” 😛😛😛😛

Crap! All that work for nothing. I forgot to cover that base and left a gaping hole in my plan. I should be pleased that she went to her sister for support unlike the two souls I left groping in the dark when I shut down their Facebook page. I should be. But I’m not. Freddie Mercury might have wanted someone to love – I just want someone to haze and I’m running out of victims.

The Key to Relationship Bliss

January 27, 2015.Reading time 5 minutes.

It’s an odd thing to accept that your daughter’s boyfriend isn’t going away. No, we even got him a Christmas present this year. He’s a fixture. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid and treats her very well. It’s just that I used to be a part of her profile picture and now it’s the two of them. Instead of Daddy the Great, I’m the old guy who barks at them to keep it down at midnight. The transition was sudden.

I knew it had to happen, and I’m actually glad it did. I want all of my girls to grow up and be independent. After all, I have big plans for their rooms when they go. Each will be a strategic part of what I have deemed The Naked Corridor. I figure I will be able to shift locations for weeks without the Crazy Pants Lady trying to cover me up. But I digress.

Odder than her having the boyfriend is that I have now actually given him relationship advice on how to keep my daughter happy. All 20 year-old boys are clueless sometimes (Heck, so are 47 year-olds). He often reminds me of another boy who dipped his toe into several very short relationship pools until he figured out that one must consider how his actions affect the other swimmer before he acts.

That’s the key isn’t it? If you want to have a healthy relationship of any kind, you have to consider how every nuance of what you are doing or intend to do will affect the other participant until at some point, that consideration becomes automatic. Oh, I’m not perfect. Just ask LW – she would laugh and tell you many stories of times I have subverted and nearly destroyed our relationship. Twenty-two years of marriage is a testament to her patience, not my consideration. Still, I try.

And so, I gave the young pup my number one tip on making a relationship work. Gather round boys and listen. Here it is. A Pearl of Wisdom sought after by lonely sailors and bachelors for centuries. You all ready? Put the toilet seat down.

That’s it. It’s so easy, but it is the absolute key to happiness.

You scoff, but think about it. We men navigate life with barely a rational thought in our mind. We get accustomed to routine and tend to expect the world to mold into our flow. As stated before and confirmed by years of experimentation in selfishness, that type of thinking doesn’t work in a relationship with the fairer sex. Sick of cleaning up our mess, our mothers drilled into our heads for years the need to lift the lid until it became routine. We even did it in our sleep (most of the time). When we learn to put the seat back down for the lady who may follow us into the bathroom, we have ceased being senseless drones and started thinking about someone else.

I submit that putting the toilet seat down is the first step toward a life of consideration.

So I told him. Not in a mean way, just in a “You’ll be better off” kind of way. I don’t know if he is permanent. Only time will tell. I like him enough to invest a little bit here and there. He’ll do better with my daughter or future women when he takes to heart this lesson I’ve so graciously bestowed. Plus, if my butt gets wet one more time, I just might have to wring his neck!