Man Vs. Machine

The most recent additions to the steaming pile of proof that my daughter’s proficiency in the art of living gracefully may not have come from her mother:

  • I keep showing up to doctor’s appointments with a couple of jokes in hand but no clue about what was on the list of discussion items that her father and I drafted in advance of the visit. The best joke: When the doctor said, ‘Your baby is turning over already! And she’s only four months old! Usually babies can’t do the things she’s doing until six months.’ I said, ‘Yes, we’re very proud of her. At this rate, she may be ready to graduate from college two months early!’  I’m sure that the doctor was also amused by my description of the Republican Texas governor’s support of an HPV vaccine mandate, but shouldn’t we have been talking about how the baby’s mole is kind of shaped like China?
  • We went to a great seafood shop over the weekend and brought home some mussels, some oysters, and an oyster knife. I am pleased to report that all oysters were opened and consumed without any puncture wounds! This is a first for me. We were careful to enclose each oyster in a kitchen towel while prying it open, which saved my hands but almost destroyed the towel. Though it was completely covered in shattered oyster shell and soaked in seawater, I thought I’d throw it in the wash and see how it came out. There was a not-so-fresh mop in the laundry room, so I threw that in the load, too. Then, instead of running the load, I let a few hours go by, forgot about the items in the washer, and started another load. What was in the new load? The one that was about to be covered in oyster shale and the remnants of 24 sea creatures? Oh, that would be the baby’s diapers.  Number of days without an oyster-related accident: 92 0.
  • My sweet mothering skills have been bested by a dishwasher. Lacking an expert opinion (see item 1, above,) I simply guessed that one more time through the laundry cycle, plus pre-wash, soak, and extra rinse, would rid the diapers of any abrasive matter. Our dishwasher, on the other hand, tests the clarity of the first rinsewater in each load and adjusts the water usage, soak time, and agitation based on that reading.
  • I got yelled at for crossing the street against the light. The older gent delivering the many-decibel lecture said something along the lines of, ‘It might be green now, but it was red when you started and you have a baby in that pram!’ I was suitably chastened, not by having stepped into a completely empty intersection all of three seconds early, but by not thinking quickly enough to shout back, ‘Did the dishwasher send you? Big Dishwasher is Watching Youuuuuuu!’ while running maniacly down the street.

And that was how I learned the word for dishwasher in German. The end.

 

 

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