Another way to fertilize flowers....

James bought me beautiful, white lilies. Last night, after hearing about his awful-no-good-rotten-weekend, this is the conversation we had: 


Me: I'm sorry you had a rotten day. Thanks for my lilies, though.

James [slightly pouting]: You're welcome.

Me: You know how to make flowers last a long time?

James: You don't have to tell me. I know.

Me: Okay, so what do you do?

James: You pee on 'em.

[I laugh. He doesn't.]

Me: Wait...are you serious?

James: Maybe.

Me: That's so gross! You peed on the flowers?!

James: I don't remember. I do remember thinking about it, but I don't remember if I did it or not. Besides, it's good for them.

Me: On a scale of sure to very sure...

James: I don't do scales. They make me fat.


I would throw the flowers away, but they are blooming rather furiously. 

Now I have to find a three-year-old

Me: James, did you eat a piece of pie last night?

James: Yes, and it was delicious.

Me: Ugh! You know I made them for the potluck tonight!

James: What? I thought you said I could have some.

Me: I said you could have some if you came to the potluck…now I can’t take it and don’t have time to make another one.

James [sheepishly]: Sorry. I stopped listening after you said, “I made chocolate pie”.

Me: I. Will. End. You.

James: I’ll make another one!

Me: You hate cooking.

James: No I don’t.

Me: Yes, you do. You don’t like people telling you what to do, which is why you never read cookbooks.

James: I’d do it this time….’cause love.

Me: I don't want to poison an entire congregation, so forget it. *sigh* I’ll just tell people my three year old got into the pie. 

James [shoulders slumping]: So I can't keep the pie?

Me: Have you not been listening to a word I've said?!

James: I accidentally stopped listening again. I was thinking about pie. 

Even I couldn't make this up...

I never know what to expect when I come home, so it shouldn't surprise me that falling asleep involves random acts of weirdness from my husband. Like the other night, when I had already gotten into bed...

James: "He approaches the bed, ready for another night of sleep after a long day’s work. Untucking the covers, he—"

Me: "What the hell are you doing?"

James: "He pulled back the sheets and watched her turn over. He wondered if she knew how to respond."

Me: "Are you...narrating your actions?"

James: "She was surprisingly quick-witted, and he knew he had found a keeper."

Me: "You are narrating...your...own...actions."

James: "Suddenly, she began to repeat herself, and he worried that she had someone injured herself into speaking like a broken, skipping record."

Me [rolling over]: "I should get paid to put up with you." 

James: "He looked over at her still form, waiting for her to sleep. Oh no, he had forgotten to pee."

[I ignore him]

[James gets out of bed and trundles over to the bathroom. Muffled sounds, like someone talking into a pipe, intermix with the splash of the toilet. He comes back into the room.]

James:"…..and then it hit him, he really wanted a bowl of cereal."

Me [mumbling into the sheets]: "You are not getting cereal."

James: "James glared at the evil lady. She won, for now, but she wouldn’t be able to keep him from cereal forever. He tucked himself into bed—"

Me: "Narrate this!" [I hit him with a pillow]

[A slight pause before --]

James: "The sting of the pillow was nothing when compared to the sting of no cereal."