Conversation with my Mother

Mother: (in the midst of diatribing)…it’s really amazing what a little bit of brown sugar in Dijon will do. It tasted just like General Taos’s chicken.

Me: (silence)

Mother: Are you listening to me???

Me: You’re not going to believe this.

Mother: What?

Me: Brautigan just poo-ed. Every time he hears your voice, he poos.

Mother: A reaction I frequently receive.

Me: It’s amazing, Mother. You’re like a verbal laxative!

Mother: I’m flattered.

Me: Well, I think he’s relaxed by your voice. He hasn’t poo-ed in over a day!

Mother: Can he still hear me?

Me: Yes.

Mother: Brautigan, listen up. This is your grand-mère and I want to talk about what just happened… Because of your age, I will allow it, but it’s never too early to learn manners. There are private activities and public activities, and we do not flaunt our poo. Is he listening?

Me: Yes.

Mother: What is he doing?

Me: He’s still poo-ing.

Mother: Well, I see we will have to revisit this topic again next time.