As a result of being crazy from the summer heat, Katie and I
have recently had two “animated discussions.” I’m going to tell you about them
right now; but please, do not judge Katie too harshly.
The first started in our family van. Our 10-year old, Connor,
was sitting on the bench directly behind the driver and passenger seats. I was
driving, Katie was co-pilot. I could see Connor getting restless, so decided to
engage him in a lively discussion.
“Connor, if you could have just one super power, what would
it be?” I asked as I looked back over my shoulder at him.
“Flying,” he responded without much contemplation.
“That’s correct,” I answered, facing forward again.
“I don’t think I would pick ‘flying,’” Katie casually throws
out. She had her oversized-lens sunglasses on.
“Of course you would.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“Because as an entire UNIVERSE we have already agreed that
FLYING is the number one super power that EVERYBODY would want. It’s, like, in
the Constitution.”
“Not for me,” she states flatly and nestles into her
headrest. As if the discussion is over.
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING TO ME?”
“I’m saying I wouldn’t choose ‘flying.’ I think I would
choose to be ‘extra strong.’”
“Extra strong?! That’s the worst super power EVER!”
“What if I got in a fight?”
“THEN YOU COULD FLY AWAY IF FLYING WAS YOUR SUPER POWER! As
a Christian, on principle, don’t you think it would be more appropriate to fly
away than to hurt somebody?”
“…and think of the handy things I could do around the house
if I were stronger!”
“I can do those things for you – and I am naturally ripped!” (This was really the
only faulty claim in my entire defense.)
“Then maybe I would want “the power to read minds.”
“Everybody has that power. It’s called ‘reading Facebook.’
It’s not that great.”
“I just don’t think I would choose ‘flying.’”
“It’s like I don’t know you at all… And we have seven
children together.”
So, not that it’s a competition, but I clearly won that
“debate,” right? Right? Rest of the world that knows “flying” is the obvious
super power of choice? Thank you.
This second one is a little dicier. And it’s because it’s
personal. See, when Katie and I got married, I had, give or take, one krafillion
cds and mixed tapes. Katie had one. And it was one I had given her. So, when it
comes to music…that’s just my
territory. And we have been in agreement on this from the very beginning. Like,
on our first date. THAT beginning.
So you can imagine my surprise when Katie, sitting at the computer desk scrolling iTunes, states, “We have too many C+C Music Factory
songs.”
“What?” I answer from the couch, looking up from my book.
“We have far, far
too many C+C Music Factory songs.”
Now, just like the rest of America, I am aware of precisely two C+C Music Factory songs. “Gonna Make
You Sweat” and … you know…the other
one. And I am going to plead guilty that I have compilation cds and stuff that
I purchased in college and beyond that I’ve randomly loaded into iTunes, so I
am not completely aware of all the songs that I have in there. But I am not going to sit idly by and let Katie
give me the business regarding our
music collection.
“There’s no such thing as too many C+C Music Factory songs,”
I confidently shoot back.
“Eight?” she says.
EIGHT?! What the WHAT?! Where in the far reaches of this
world did eight C+C Music Factory
songs come from, and how did they get on my computer?!
“Those are eight classics,” I defend myself.
“They all sound exactly the same,” she says, succinctly
nailing it on the head.
“No they don’t. I like all of them, separately.”
“Name them.”
Oh, BABY. She was laying down the gauntlet. And I was going
to lose. THIS is why I should have my cell phone on me at all times. I could
have strategically looked this up with the phone behind my book.
I looked back at her, and in complete desperation, tried to
give her one of those “Isn’t this a bit childish?” looks. This, of course, blew
up in my face because she accurately read it for what it was – a bluff.
She raised her left eyebrow, inviting me to begin.
“Well, there’s Gonna
Make You Sweat…”
“Yes….”
“And then there’s Everybody
Dance Now…”
“That’s the same song.”
“Mmmm…I don’t think so.”
“Yes, it says it right here, Gonna Make You Sweat, then parentheses, Everybody Dance Now.”
“Oh…well, the Everybody
Dance Now that I’m referring to was a b-side that was released only in
Europe, so…maybe it’s not one of the songs that we have, but it is most
certainly one of their songs, so…”
Stone-faced: “What are the names of the other seven songs?”
“Right. Uhm…I don’t remember the name, but it says something
about, “I’m just a squirrel, trying to get a nut –”
“That’s the same song,” Katie rudely interrupts.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmmm….OH! Here We
Go, Let’s Rock & Roll!” I say, a little too excited about knowing a second
C+C song, and making it more obvious I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“OK. What else?”
“…can you give me a hint?” I ask, defeat looming.
“Starts with a Things
that Make You…”
“OH! Things That Make
You Go Hmmm.”
“That’s only three songs you’ve named.”
“Yes,” I begin, with a new strategy. “But those three sound
distinctly different. So I am right about those.
But you are right about the other
five, because I think those five sound the same as these three, and they are totally
unnecessary. You know what? I’m having another thought – since I’m in charge of the music – why don’t
we just delete those other five, because, as you said, they sound too similar
to the three, very distinct, very original songs that I just listed. So, you
were right, and I was right. But
let’s not argue anymore about who is right, and who shouldn’t be talking about
whether or not our music library has enough or not enough of something. Right?”
Whew. So, we’ll call that one a tie.
But seriously, if this heat doesn’t fade soon, there’s going
to be a whole-lotta discussions about some other urgent and topical issues that
are severely affecting our marriage. Like when we start discussing my tendency
to watch a Seinfeld rerun on TV when
Katie points out that we literally own the DVD and could watch it anytime,
especially at a decent hour? Oh, you don’t want to a front row seat to that
show, folks.
