Stupid Genes!

     I always try to look on the bright side. Married to a disabled man, I get the good parking. At least when he's with me. I get to have a career, guilt free, while he is my stay at home Dad. It works for us, and mostly is good. Except for Cub Scouts. More specifically, Cub Scout hikes. He can't go, so I have to. Now, I've never been a girly girl. I touch frogs and toads, I'm not afraid of snakes or spiders, some good old mud never hurt anybody. And back before I got fat and couldn't get myself back up off the ground, I've been known to sleep in tents and pee in the woods. If I have to. But hiking for fun seems to me kind of like jogging. You know, useless. But it gets the kids beltloops and pins, so I do what I have to do. Today's hike reminded me of a phenonomen that started years ago.

     Many many moons ago, back in the last millenium, my husband was not anyone to me except my boss. That's right, years before we ever considered dating, I worked for him. In a shop. As anyone who works these places (and most others) knows, employees' cars (or other items or services) are always put on the back burner. Other customers come first, and they kind of assume you'll be back tomorrow. A co-worker's car was in for repair, and of course not finished yet. I passed within a mile of his house on my way home, so naturally I was the one he asked to take him home. I was at the time clock waiting, when boss man asked why. I told him since Ed's car wasn't finished yet, I was taking him home. This is the important part. He actually looked at me and said, in a questioning tone, "Taking him home?" Of course my smart ass nature kicked in, so I answered.

     "Yes. He will get into my car with me, at which point I will drive him to his house. Then, he will get out of my car, and I will continue driving until I get to my house. Then I will park the car and go inside." His whole response to this? "Oh."

     Throughout our working, then dating, then married relationship this pattern has continued. Usually when I'm asking about something he doesn't want to talk about. Example:

     Me: "How about you clean up the dog shit in the hallway?"

     Him: "Dog shit in the hallway?" Like he's never heard any of those words before.

     Me: "Yes. In the long room that leads to the other rooms, there is a pile of fecal matter, presumably canine. Hopefully canine. I don't think it would be a good idea to leave it there, and since I'm currently (fill in the blank of the 12 things I'm currently doing while he's watching TV) I would like for you to clean it up, please."

     Him: "Oh."

     So today was a Cub Scout hike. I figure that maybe "James," a step-son who was never allowed to be a Cub Scout might enjoy it. So I say to him: "Today is a Cub Scout hike. Would you like to tag along?" And what does the little brat say? As if he's never heard the word before, "Hike?"

     Me: "Yes. Hike. It's like a walk, but it takes place in the woods."

     James: "I know what it is!"

     OK, A: Then why did you ask? And B: The response is always supposed to be "Oh." Nothing more, nothing less. Just "Oh."  Definitely my husband's child though. Stupid genes.