Thongs, Boy Shorts, and Supreme Power

On Thursday this week, we had a bit of a scheduling pile-up. Hubby had counseling at the same time Middle had PT for her concussion symptoms that, yes, still linger more than six months after the accident. So, we picked her up from school and headed to the town south of us, where both appointments were both located.

Travels of any length with Middle are always entertaining, because you just never know what's going to pop out of her mouth to start a conversation going.

Something about her upcoming birthday later this month jump-started things.

Hubby: What do you want for your birthday?

Middle: I don't know. I can't come up with stuff right away.

Hubby: You don't know what you want?

Middle: I don't know.

I stifled a giggle.

Middle: A real nice agate, maybe.

Her favorite rock.

Hubby: Not a lot of wants is a good thing.

Middle: I want lots of things. I just can't think of them right now!

Hubby and I laughed.

Middle: Stuff I talked to Special Edition about...

Me: I don't know the stuff you've talked to Special Edition about.

Middle: She doesn't rat on us!

Meanwhile, I fired off a text to Special Edition, telling her about the snippet of conversation with Middle. (Special Edition was very amused.)

Middle: I know what I want. Total power.

Hubby: Over what?

Middle: I want total and utter power over everything, Literal power.

Me: We could have you stick a fork in a socket like you dressed up as for Halloween.

Middle: I have a feeling that might kill me.

Me (with a grin): Zap you a little, at least.

Hubby: What else would you like for your birthday?

Yes, we're fishing.

Middle: Clip-on earrings.

Hubby: Really?

Middle: Yeah. I'm not cool among my classmates because I don't wear earrings, 'cause my holes have closed over.

Hubby gave her a skeptical look over his shoulder.

Middle: You don't know my life, Dad!

Hubby: (laughing)

Middle: And I want some tiny locks, like for diaries. And I want a pocket knife for whittling, so I don't have to keep borrowing yours. And I want boy short underwear.

Hubby: You want what?

I wasn't surprised by this; she'd asked me about it the day before when I'd been doing some shopping of my own. I'd denied new underwear for the sake of new underwear when her current undies fit just fine. And I knew what boy short panties were. Hubby, I suspected, did not.

Middle: Yes! When you come in at night [to get Youngest up], you'll see less of me if my legs are up!

Me: That's what pajama pants are for.

Middle: I don't like pajama pants.

Me: I doubt boy shorts are gonna cover more than briefs.

Hubby (looking slightly vexed and perplexed): I don't think boy shorts are going to be a thing for now. Thongs, however...

Me (sternly): NO.

Hubby: (laughs)

Middle: What's a thong?

Hubby: It's where there's no material covering either side of your tushie. You just have a strip of material going up between your cheeks. You're ... free-cheeking.

Middle: You should wear them, Dad!

I howled and sent a text to Special Edition, who immediately questioned life. Meanwhile...

Middle: No! No! I take it back! Never wear them!

I sent a follow-up text to Special Edition, explaining that Middle almost immediately backpedaled as the mental image caught up to her. I was pretty sure I could hear SE laughing from several hours away.

Middle: So why did you both come today?

Hubby: I had counseling at the same time that you have PT with Tani, so you guys are dropping me off first at counseling and then going to PT.

Middle: Ew, that's weird.

Hubby: Would you rather I call it therapy?

Middle: No, that's worse!

Me: I had counseling this morning.

Middle: No, that's okay.

Me (wryly): You may wanna tighten the bolts in your neck, kid.

Middle: No, it's not weird for you. It's weird for Dad.

To be honest, I think I felt a little offended here.

Hubby: Because your dad is a big strong man who's too tough for therapy?

Middle: Don't be-- Those are your words!

Hubby: But they're essentially kind of your feelings?

Middle: Your words, but yeah. (pause) Did you bring my book?

Hubby: Mom brought it. She remembered it.

Me: Have you been doing your exercises?

Middle: Yes.

I raised a brow.

Me: At the correct speed?

Did you know that you can hear eye rolls?  I think her eyes must have rolled around in her sockets twice.

Middle: Yeeeeeeees, Mom.

Hubby pulled into the lot at his counselor's office and parked.

Hubby: Some of those exercises are crazy. They had this black-and-white checkered mat that they spread across the floor, kind of like a picnic tablecloth. They had her walk in a straight line across it. She couldn't do it.

Middle: It was rigged!

Hubby: I couldn't even do it!

I drove us over to the PT location, where I ran into paperwork, and I had Middle help me with the questions on the forms about her last two weeks and her symptoms. This concussion had really been a doozy, and I hated how much it still affected her. It didn't stop her silliness when Tani came out and brought us back to the room.

Yes, neck pain still. Yes, dizziness still. No, she hadn't been drinking enough water, which the neurologist had called out on Monday's appointment, which is why we'd bought the water bottle on Wednesday when we'd gone shopping, because Middle's cardiologist had explained that her frequent vertigo on suddenly rising was due to her lack of blood volume due to lack of proper hydration. So she'd gotten dizzy on Thursday because she forgot the water bottle at home...which earned her a droll look from the therapist.

Tani brought Middle over to a sensor flat on the floor and told her to stand on it. Middle skittered away.

I pointed to it.

Me: Hop on.

Middle: It's rigged!

Me: How do you know it's rigged?

Middle: Past experience!

I couldn't argue with that, but Middle obeyed Tani and got on the sensor.

Tani: Stand still, and try to keep the plus sign there right in the center. Keep your arms down at your sides. Don't close your eyes.

Tani pointed to the screen, and Middle watched, swaying a little.

Middle: I can't do it!

She glanced over at me.

Middle: I told you it was rigged!

After a few minutes of this exercise, Tani placed a cushion on the sensor, and Middle repeated it.

Tani explained that Middle had progressed enough that it was time to bump her up to the next level of PT, so we were going to be referred to a new therapist at a new location. Middle should keep doing her exercises--at the correct duration and speed--and we'd meet the new therapist for our next appointment.

As we got ready to leave, I noticed Middle all but falling off the chair next to me.

Middle: My shoe is off!

Me: Keep your shoe on.

Middle: I have a problem.

Me: Child, you have many problems.

Middle: Thanks, which one?

We piled back in the car and headed back over to Hubby's counseling location. As I drove through the residential neighborhood where the PT office was located, we passed some heavy construction equipment actively working on a home.

Middle: Look, it's a thingie!

Me (looking): Yes, it's a thingie, because I can't remember the right word.

I drove for another tenth of a mile or so.

Me: Backhoe!

Middle: I thought we agreed it's a thingie.

We picked up Hubby and headed for home.

Middle: Mamoo, do you have any nail clippers?

By this time, Hubby was driving, so I was able to reach into my pocket and pull out the nail clippers I always carry. I handed them back to her. Hubby regaled us with stories of people he'd seen come into his store wearing costumes last week, both kids and adults. I related the story about Middle falling out of her shoes at therapy. Which made me remember.

Me: Are you done with my nail clippers yet?

Middle: Not yet.

Hubby (glancing into the back seat): She's working on her toenails through a hole in her sock!

Middle (nonchalantly): I have a hangnail.

Hubby: At least she probably didn't put the hole in.

Middle: I did. How else would I get access?

This had us giggling.

Several moments went by in silence, and Middle handed my nail clippers back to me.

Middle: My feet stink.

Hubby and Me (unison): We know.

Middle: Why don't your feet stink?

Hubby: I have good glands.

Me: My feet don't stink, either.

Hubby: You must also have good glands.

Middle: I sighed. It was a mistake.

I thought Hubby was going to blow snot out his nose. And if my father were alive and reading this, I think he'd be experiencing a coffee nasal cleanse about now.

Middle: Mom, I need your nail clippers again. I took my shoe off and I'd forgotten one.

Hubby: Oh. Well, then.

Middle (authoritatively): Shoes and socks are uncomfortable.

This kid.