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.
Mother: Are you listening to me???
Me: You’re not going to believe this.
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?
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?
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.