Different views on an ordinary life.
So the other day I was driving my older son somewhere.
Background: the boys are obsessed with longboarding. High speeds, rough streets. That means road rash, all the time, somewhere. Someone is always oozing.
He had picked a scab, a fairly large one. That’s pretty gross, and I’m an ER nurse. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW GROSS MY LIFE IS. But still, scabs, not a fan. He began to wax poetic about the scab, like conceptually.
Him: Mom, did you ever hold a scab up to the light? It’s cool, like interesting.
Me: No I have not done that.
Him: Why not? It’s like, colorful, or patchy or something.
Me: Because society.
Him (actually sounding slightly indignant, as though affronted by me not being on board with scab kaleidoscopes): What do you have against scabs? They’re just, like, dried blood from your body.
Me (unable to let inaccuracy slide in spite of imminent drop off and disinterested audience): Blah blah aggregation blah cross-linking blahblah fibrin blah blah.
Him: Mom you’re such a nerd.
Me: You can’t bring the scab to school with you.
Him: Awwwww (disappointed noise). Why not?
Me: Dude you’re too old for show and tell.
Me: Don’t put it in your backpack either.
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