Tough Guy
Guys are so predictable. I swear they're cut from the same mold. Maybe their entire engineering, psyche and all, is so simplistic that God was able to streamline the assembly that way. He (or She) could definitely not do that with females. Custom made all the way, sistas! Anyway, I took my 16 year old son to get some routine bloodwork. As we were sitting in the waiting room waiting (duh) for his turn, I nonchalantly asked him if he wanted me to go in with him or wait where I was. He responded with that "are you kidding?" snort and "I don't care. Either way." So I took that as a cue that he's no longer my little baby in need of a maternal hand to grip with knuckle-whitening intensity. I replied, "Okay, I guess I'll stay out here and read the paper." No response. A few minutes later, his name was called. He rose from his chair morosely, then looked at me with a widened expectant stare and that little head jerk that says, "Well, aren't you coming?" I returned with my own confused expression, one that, I'm proud to report, has been honed to perfection due to decades of daily practice. After an awkward pause, he says in an urgent whisper, "Mom, come on!" I guess he's not quite finished with me after all.