My mom is an enthusiastic conversationalist. She usually takes the lead on most of our family phone conversations. But tonight we had a Skype date instead and my dad had a bunch of things to talk about from the get go. This visibly dismayed my mom, and when a break came in the conversation she said, “Well I’d have a few things to add if I could get a word in edgewise!”
To which I couldn’t help but add, “Um, Pot? You’re pretty much calling the kettle black.” (Channeling, of course, Pheboe and Monica.)
My mom said, “Pot! Yeah, who’s the pot now?!”
Then this, from my dad: “No, Martie, pot is something we do at Christmas.”
(And if you’re horribly confused right now – we don’t actually do pot, or any other miscellaneous drugs, at Christmas – just go back and read the post in the hyperlink and everything will make sense.)
I love my parents. Especially today, a year after what started as an unpleasant morning but ended up being the biggest lifesaving blessing in my life to-date. Dad, I’m so grateful that one year later we can Skype and talk about pot. And Mom, I’m glad some things never change. Thank you both for making life so much fun.