Agree to Disagree

Even though I am a mother of two boys, I don’t understand them.  Not even in the slightest.

For example, I don’t understand random, inappropriate bodily functions at the dinner table.  I don’t understand them nor do I find them rip-roaring hilarious like my boys do.

I also don’t understand how Full Speed allowed the following to happen.  He had sustained a fairly painful knee injury at school.  Of course I gave him a generous amount of motherly sympathy and asked him how it happened.

“Well, I asked two of my friends if they could beat me up,” he replied as if this was the most normal thing in the world. 

Apparently his friends were quite successful thus the ‘terrible’ knee injury.

I asked him why he did that.

“I don’t know,” he said.

In all my years on this planet I have never once asked anyone, let alone multiple people, to beat me up.  I told Full Speed exactly that.

He smiled and shrugged at me.  I sensed he thought I might be missing out on a valuable life experience.

 Agree to disagree.