We just returned home from about ten days in California, driving roughly 1700 miles when all was said and done. The kids were great. I’m not kidding. No complaining, very little whining, they played together and the older ones took care of the younger ones, etc. They weren’t perfect, but they were really, really enjoyable, and it made the entire trip, long drives and all, very relaxing and stress-free. Great kids. I could go on.
Which makes this one conversation a little hard to understand. While driving from one attraction to another, somewhere in South Lake Tahoe, I overheard the following conversation coming from the last row of seats in our van between two of my sons. I wish I knew which son had which lines, but, sadly, I don’t know. Here is the convo, nearly word-for-word:
One Son: “Have you ever just wished you could get punched in the face?”
The Other Son: “What?”
OS: “Haven’t you ever just wanted someone to punch you in the face? Like, just punch you right in the face?”
TOS: (obviously caught a bit off-guard) “What? I don’t know. No. I don’t think so. Punched in my face? No. Nope.”
OS: (quietly) “Oh. Because I feel like punching someone in the face.”
There you have it. Go ahead. Analyze. Analyze the crap out of that…