A few days ago, I posted about an odd conversation (odd, but not unusual, I'm afraid to say)between my son and I. He says stuff like this to me all of the time and I've always thought it so strange.
I've been married to the man in my bed for twelve years now. We talk a lot. We are great pals. I don't understand half of what he's saying, but tonight, as we laid in bed, I suddenly connected the dots and understood my son much better.
He: What do you think would be worse: Jumping out of an airplane with no parachute or jumping out of an airplane with no parachute and tied to a chair?
Me, looking at him with a completely confounded look: What?
He: I think I would rather have my arms free.
Me: Who are you? What the heck are you talking about?
He: Oh, nothin'. I was just thinking.
**A few minutes pass, I continue reading. He continues thinking . . . apparently.**
He: What would you do if you woke up in the morning and your hand was missing?
He: What's the first thing you would do if you noticed your hand was gone?
Me: Where do you come up with this crap? That is the second question tonight that makes no sense.
He, ignoring me: I would go straight to the freezer to see if it was there. 'Cause if it was, then, no big deal. I can have it put back on.
Me, incredulous: You can't just "put" a frozen, dismembered part back on your body!
He: Now, if the fingernails were painted red, I would really begin to wonder what happened during the night.
Me, putting down my book, sitting up and turning to look at the man by my side: Are you serious? You wake up in the morning and your hand is missing. You think to check in the freezer (because that is the logical reaction to a missing body part) and find it is there. And the thing that makes you wonder about what happened is the red fingernails?
He: What? Don't you ever think about stuff like that?
Uhh, no, nope, huh-uh.
If that was weird, I've been officially promoted to normal.