Wednesday, October 22, 2008

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....


Steve Skinner said...

Great stuff Sir, you have made my day.

Empress Bee (of the high sea) said...

you know i always thought that was chuck's problem, i gave him too much money. who knows? anyway, lean is mean! ha ha

great post curmy!

smiles, bee

landgirl said...

Oh, frugal, indeed. The stereotype of Scots as extremely frugal is frequently apt.

But I think I'll not elaborate on that just now.

Ellee Seymour said...

That's the kind of conversation I have with my husband too! So funny!