I prefer to think of it as "frugal"....

"I can't believe you're so cheap!"

Long Suffering Spouse was fuming at me yesterday morning and, I sadly admit, I had it coming.

Youngest Son and I were on our way to his school yesterday morning when my cell phone went off. Since I was driving (we were running late, else Youngest Son would have driven) I handed the phone to the boy. After a few seemingly innocuous remarks, Youngest Son told me, "Mom says to give me some money."

"Mom said that? Put her on speaker," I commanded. When he complied, I asked what this was all about.

"I was going to give him some money," said Long Suffering Spouse, "but I forgot. He needs to have something in his pocket. Do you have any cash?"

I admitted that I did.

"Well, give him some."

Soon thereafter the call terminated.

We were approaching a railroad crossing at the time, and no sooner had we crossed the tracks than the thought of giving the boy money had gone out of my mind. I swear I made no deliberate decision to ignore my instructions; it's just that, sometimes -- well, most times -- the old gears just don't mesh until the coffee kicks in.

In my defense, Youngest Son also failed to broach the topic when I dropped him off.

It was on the way home when the thought came back into my head. The coffee -- I sip from a five gallon drum while driving in the hopes of getting those gears to start turning -- may have begun to take effect. Or it may have been crossing those same train tracks again: Power of association and so forth.

But it was too late to comply. I could only confess. Which led to the dressing down administered by Long Suffering Spouse and set forth at the outset here.

Now we come to this morning: Late again, I drive. There are no phone calls. Youngest Son gets out of the car and is heading into the building when -- amazing! -- yesterday's thought comes into my head again.

I call the boy back to the car. I undo my seat belt and reach for my wallet. Contrary to rumor, there is no combination lock.

When Youngest Son shuffled over to the car I asked, "Did your mother give you money?"

"Yes," he said, so I put the wallet back (resetting the pocket alarm) and rebuckled my seat belt.

Youngest Son walked away saying, "I knew you weren't going to give me any money."

I recounted this all to Long Suffering Spouse when I returned home. If I had been looking for sympathy, I would have been disappointed. "The boy knows his father," she said. Which, closing the loop, brings me to the title of today's essay....