02 February 2013
628
R. Linda:
Question: What happens when the dishwasher breaks? Answer: You turn the faucet on and fill the sink with water, pour in the dishwashing liquid and you're in business the old-fashioned way. In the eyes of a three-year-old, if this practise is repeated enough times in his presence, that water coming out of the faucet is not the kind you drink because in his mind it is a dishwater. Yes, it is.
Imagine the babysitter's surprise when our youngest asked her for water, and the water turned out to not be the kind he wanted. She had gone straight to the fridge and found we were out of the bottled kind, so she got a glass and went to the tap and handed the crystal-clear liquid to him.
He stood there, arms folded nervously eyeing the glass.
"Come on, take it," she prodded.
"Dat is dishwater," he said, "I dunt drink dishwater!"
"It isn't dishwater its tap water," she said stretching the glass towards him.
"Tap water an' dishwater are da same!" He said backing away from the outstretched hand.
"Where did you get that from?" The sitter asked putting the glass on the counter.
He sighed in exasperation of her ignorance and walked up to her motioning for her to lean down to his level. Then he proceeded to explain that his mom does the dishes in the sink and she gets the water from the faucet and it gets all soapy and dirty and that's why.
"Oh," the sitter laughed, "no LaGuardia you have it all wrong. That is clean water that comes out of the pipes and then you put the dish soap in, it doesn't flow out of the tap that way."
"Oh yes, it does!" He countered. "I seen her do it!"
"Well, I will leave the glass here, if you want it you are welcome to it. There is no bottled water, that is all there is unless you want milk instead." He shook his head at the milk, so she left him to it.
He stood there, his diminutive self with arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes squinted at the water glass looking for the soap and food particles. Once he was sure she wasn't looking he moved closer in with the same demeanour and really stared into the glass looking for evidence of what he said was true. But there was nothing but clear liquid in the glass and this just puzzled him no end. He knew for sure, he had seen the procedure, so how could this be?
It was a trick it was, the sitter had somehow drained the soap and food particles out of the liquid and made it look like water should, in her demented effort to get him to drink it so she could laugh about it later.
Well, I heard this when I got home, as Tonya was at an Art Show meeting and Caroline was watching the boys. The subject of our conversation came walking in, still in the same mad posture of arms folded across his chest, lower lip pouting, and he announced, "Caroline is tryin' ta kill me."
"What?" I asked taken by surprise.
"She's been tryin' ta git me ta drink dat dirty dishwater, so I'll fill up wit soap an' be floatin' on da ceilin' and git all slippery an' stuff, an' ya won't be able ta git me down." And he pointed to the glass that had stayed hours on the counter, now sporting tiny air beads that arrange themselves along the sides of the glass when the water has sat too long.
"No, no, buddy, those beads are just there because the liquid has sat too long." And I made the mistake of laughing.
"Nah dere soap bubbles, da water is dishwater! I ainta gonna drink it!" He said with a frown on his face that it was hard not to laugh. He was dead serious about this and I was not helping matters. He then did that thing wee ones do, where he slid his small body against me legs and held his hands up like he wanted to be picked up like a baby and whined, "I'm thirsty! An deres nuthin' to drink but dishwaterrr . . . "
"Okay hold on," I said, "I'll prove this isn't dishwater. You know I'd never drink dishwater either."
I emptied the glass and rinsed it out, then filled it. I showed him the filled glass and took a good sip to demonstrate there was nothing to his complaining.
"EWWW GROSS . . . Da! Yer gonna fill up wit bubbles!" He shouted covering his face to prevent watching me foam at the mouth with bubbles, which of course did not happen.
I put the glass down and knelt to his level taking his hands away so he could see me mouth, but instead, he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
"Come on now look, LaGuardia, take a look. Da has no soap, no bubbles." I prodded.
He opened one eye and looked at me askance, then slowly the other. Immediately the small fingers went to me mouth prying it open to look inside for the soap bubbles he just knew were there. I accommodated the inspection, even stuck me tongue out at him and that got him laughing, but he still wouldn't drink the water.
"I wanna soder," he said.
"No, no sugary soft drinks. We've talked about this." I said getting up.
"Then I wanna cup a' coffee!"
"You don't drink coffee, you're too young and besides you'd hate the taste."
"No, I wouldn't!" He had got himself back in that stance of wrapping his arms around his middle, the lower lip out. "I wanna try sum!"
"Okay, I'll tell you what, you let me pay Caroline and I'll share me travel cup with you." I winked at the sitter who had a grin on her face. Once she was gone, I got down a cup and poured the still-warm joe into it. He stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face like he had won.
"Now to really enjoy coffee you must sip it slowly," I said placing it before him as he got in a chair and set himself at the table, me across from him.
I slid me travel cup across the table and clinked it against his cup in camaraderie and I took a sip.
He tentatively moved the cup closer to himself and looked inside, then he moved his head to meet the cup and took a swig. The look on his face was priceless, it was the most sour look I've seen. I knew instantly it was terrible tasting to him.
"UGH! How kin ya drink dis stuff?" He asked sliding the cup away from him. "Needs sugah!"
"Em . . . no sugar ruins the taste, just a drop of milk or cream and you are good to go," I said like I was the authority on how to drink joe.
"I'd rather drink da dishwater!" he said and got the glass I had left on the counter and drank it down. I guess he had gone most of the evening thirsty and couldn't hold out any longer. He's not a milk drinker so that wasn't an option. He put the glass down with an "AH!" like that was just what the doctor ordered.
I was amused I was, but tried not to show it and just to be a horse's patootie, I said, "I guess this means you don't want the coffee," and I frowned.
"Nah YOU drink it! Itz made wit dog water anywayz."
That remark gave me pause.
"What you mean its made with dog water?"
"Granma made ya a cup wit da dog's water when da 'lectric went off durin' da storm and ya wus complainin' yer wanted coffee an' would drink it cold iffin yer hadda."
I sat there in stunned silence. Would she have done such a thing? Yes, she would! I remembered it was during Hurricane Sandy we lost power, the water wasn't working, the stove wasn't working, I was in dire need of a cup of joe and I remember complaining I couldn't even go out to the local Dunks because the town had asked everyone to stay off the roads. And it wasn't five minutes later the Dragon had stuck a cup of cold joe in me hands and I do remember the smug look on her face as I drank it. OH MY GOD!
What a numbing thought! She had mixed the dogs water in with the instant coffee and . . . OMG! I even asked her how she did it and she said, "Magic." Magic me arse! The woman is a hazard to me health. Talk about trying to kill someone? I'd rather drink dishwater! I know you find this funny, but I don't. I told Tonya about it when she got home, and her response was, "Come on, really? You know she wouldn't do that." And off she went leaving me there with dry heaves.
Now I have it in for the Dragon Lady. I don't know what I will do but I'll think of something. It be a shame it be, because you know how much I crave coffee, it's me one luxury in life, and now . . . it is spoiled for me. I looked at me morning joe and could hardly get it down I was thinking I tasted dog hairs. Oh I know, I be talking meself into getting sick. Oi!
But you know how I am without me coffee. Life is pretty much over!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Question: What happens when the dishwasher breaks? Answer: You turn the faucet on and fill the sink with water, pour in the dishwashing liquid and you're in business the old-fashioned way. In the eyes of a three-year-old, if this practise is repeated enough times in his presence, that water coming out of the faucet is not the kind you drink because in his mind it is a dishwater. Yes, it is.
Imagine the babysitter's surprise when our youngest asked her for water, and the water turned out to not be the kind he wanted. She had gone straight to the fridge and found we were out of the bottled kind, so she got a glass and went to the tap and handed the crystal-clear liquid to him.
He stood there, arms folded nervously eyeing the glass.
"Come on, take it," she prodded.
"Dat is dishwater," he said, "I dunt drink dishwater!"
"It isn't dishwater its tap water," she said stretching the glass towards him.
"Tap water an' dishwater are da same!" He said backing away from the outstretched hand.
"Where did you get that from?" The sitter asked putting the glass on the counter.
He sighed in exasperation of her ignorance and walked up to her motioning for her to lean down to his level. Then he proceeded to explain that his mom does the dishes in the sink and she gets the water from the faucet and it gets all soapy and dirty and that's why.
"Oh," the sitter laughed, "no LaGuardia you have it all wrong. That is clean water that comes out of the pipes and then you put the dish soap in, it doesn't flow out of the tap that way."
"Oh yes, it does!" He countered. "I seen her do it!"
"Well, I will leave the glass here, if you want it you are welcome to it. There is no bottled water, that is all there is unless you want milk instead." He shook his head at the milk, so she left him to it.
He stood there, his diminutive self with arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes squinted at the water glass looking for the soap and food particles. Once he was sure she wasn't looking he moved closer in with the same demeanour and really stared into the glass looking for evidence of what he said was true. But there was nothing but clear liquid in the glass and this just puzzled him no end. He knew for sure, he had seen the procedure, so how could this be?
It was a trick it was, the sitter had somehow drained the soap and food particles out of the liquid and made it look like water should, in her demented effort to get him to drink it so she could laugh about it later.
Well, I heard this when I got home, as Tonya was at an Art Show meeting and Caroline was watching the boys. The subject of our conversation came walking in, still in the same mad posture of arms folded across his chest, lower lip pouting, and he announced, "Caroline is tryin' ta kill me."
"What?" I asked taken by surprise.
"She's been tryin' ta git me ta drink dat dirty dishwater, so I'll fill up wit soap an' be floatin' on da ceilin' and git all slippery an' stuff, an' ya won't be able ta git me down." And he pointed to the glass that had stayed hours on the counter, now sporting tiny air beads that arrange themselves along the sides of the glass when the water has sat too long.
"No, no, buddy, those beads are just there because the liquid has sat too long." And I made the mistake of laughing.
"Nah dere soap bubbles, da water is dishwater! I ainta gonna drink it!" He said with a frown on his face that it was hard not to laugh. He was dead serious about this and I was not helping matters. He then did that thing wee ones do, where he slid his small body against me legs and held his hands up like he wanted to be picked up like a baby and whined, "I'm thirsty! An deres nuthin' to drink but dishwaterrr . . . "
"Okay hold on," I said, "I'll prove this isn't dishwater. You know I'd never drink dishwater either."
I emptied the glass and rinsed it out, then filled it. I showed him the filled glass and took a good sip to demonstrate there was nothing to his complaining.
"EWWW GROSS . . . Da! Yer gonna fill up wit bubbles!" He shouted covering his face to prevent watching me foam at the mouth with bubbles, which of course did not happen.
I put the glass down and knelt to his level taking his hands away so he could see me mouth, but instead, he kept his eyes squeezed shut.
"Come on now look, LaGuardia, take a look. Da has no soap, no bubbles." I prodded.
He opened one eye and looked at me askance, then slowly the other. Immediately the small fingers went to me mouth prying it open to look inside for the soap bubbles he just knew were there. I accommodated the inspection, even stuck me tongue out at him and that got him laughing, but he still wouldn't drink the water.
"I wanna soder," he said.
"No, no sugary soft drinks. We've talked about this." I said getting up.
"Then I wanna cup a' coffee!"
"You don't drink coffee, you're too young and besides you'd hate the taste."
"No, I wouldn't!" He had got himself back in that stance of wrapping his arms around his middle, the lower lip out. "I wanna try sum!"
"Okay, I'll tell you what, you let me pay Caroline and I'll share me travel cup with you." I winked at the sitter who had a grin on her face. Once she was gone, I got down a cup and poured the still-warm joe into it. He stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face like he had won.
"Now to really enjoy coffee you must sip it slowly," I said placing it before him as he got in a chair and set himself at the table, me across from him.
I slid me travel cup across the table and clinked it against his cup in camaraderie and I took a sip.
He tentatively moved the cup closer to himself and looked inside, then he moved his head to meet the cup and took a swig. The look on his face was priceless, it was the most sour look I've seen. I knew instantly it was terrible tasting to him.
"UGH! How kin ya drink dis stuff?" He asked sliding the cup away from him. "Needs sugah!"
"Em . . . no sugar ruins the taste, just a drop of milk or cream and you are good to go," I said like I was the authority on how to drink joe.
"I'd rather drink da dishwater!" he said and got the glass I had left on the counter and drank it down. I guess he had gone most of the evening thirsty and couldn't hold out any longer. He's not a milk drinker so that wasn't an option. He put the glass down with an "AH!" like that was just what the doctor ordered.
I was amused I was, but tried not to show it and just to be a horse's patootie, I said, "I guess this means you don't want the coffee," and I frowned.
"Nah YOU drink it! Itz made wit dog water anywayz."
That remark gave me pause.
"What you mean its made with dog water?"
"Granma made ya a cup wit da dog's water when da 'lectric went off durin' da storm and ya wus complainin' yer wanted coffee an' would drink it cold iffin yer hadda."
I sat there in stunned silence. Would she have done such a thing? Yes, she would! I remembered it was during Hurricane Sandy we lost power, the water wasn't working, the stove wasn't working, I was in dire need of a cup of joe and I remember complaining I couldn't even go out to the local Dunks because the town had asked everyone to stay off the roads. And it wasn't five minutes later the Dragon had stuck a cup of cold joe in me hands and I do remember the smug look on her face as I drank it. OH MY GOD!
What a numbing thought! She had mixed the dogs water in with the instant coffee and . . . OMG! I even asked her how she did it and she said, "Magic." Magic me arse! The woman is a hazard to me health. Talk about trying to kill someone? I'd rather drink dishwater! I know you find this funny, but I don't. I told Tonya about it when she got home, and her response was, "Come on, really? You know she wouldn't do that." And off she went leaving me there with dry heaves.
Now I have it in for the Dragon Lady. I don't know what I will do but I'll think of something. It be a shame it be, because you know how much I crave coffee, it's me one luxury in life, and now . . . it is spoiled for me. I looked at me morning joe and could hardly get it down I was thinking I tasted dog hairs. Oh I know, I be talking meself into getting sick. Oi!
But you know how I am without me coffee. Life is pretty much over!
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
