"Your mother's rather mad at you." This was my greeting from Stacy when I got home this evening.
"Why is Mom upset with me?" I asked. "OK, we didn't call last weekend, but that was 'cause... I dunno. OK. She's probably mad at me." I mentally gave in before a single shot was fired. I don't win these kinds of battles.
"She's feeling neglected," Stacy said.
"Really?" I said. Wow. It only takes missing the phone call one week...
"It's the blog. You know she checks it
every day."
"Oh," I said, the problem shifting now into perspective.
"It has been over three months now..."
"I know, I know," I attempted, "But it's gotten so hard. The kids have gotten older, there are not as many cutesy stories. She doesn't want to read about how I want to strangle them so much more these days."
"You don't want to strangle them...," said Stacy ( but there was an overtone in her voice that said "But I know I sure do.") "...and Mimi still loves to read them. They they don't have to be grand or important - they are important to her. She was lamenting to L on the phone this morning."
"Hmmmph!" I said decisively and changed the subject.
Later after dinner as I was relaxing on the net, the kids marched out of their bedrooms with a smirk on their faces that clearly indicated they'd concocted something. "Daddy, we have a performance for you!" they sang. Then they whipped out signs from nowhere and started marching around in circles chanting "We want a boycott! We want a boycott."
"What are you boycotting?" I asked. They flashed me their signs. The blog.
"We want the blog back... for Mimi's sake!" they said.
"I'm not to sure you understand exactly what a boycott is," I started to say, but decided this might not be the best time for a vocabulary lesson. What I did say was, "But..."
Then Stacy rounded her steely glare at me and I shrunk back into my chair as the picketers recommenced their marchline.
"We want a boycott! We want a boycott!..."
"OK," I said. "But only for Mimi's sake..."
