I Have Nothing to Say to That

I used* to have a big problem keeping my mouth shut.

I ate a lot of bugs.  Full of nutrients.

Anyway, one of the many disadvantages of this little problem is that I just never know when to shut up give up.

Last night my bro-in-law (16) was complaining that his knuckles were cracked.  His mom, Brett (the brother) and I tried to convince to him to use Aquaphor, the greatest ointment known to man.  He kept coming back with excuse after excuse why he didn't want to use it.

Normally I would've persisted.  I'm no quitter.

But yesterday, something happened.  Something inside of me died.  I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Fine, have cracked knuckles," and then went on my merry way.

And you know what, it felt good.  Dang good.

I tried it again during my daily lunch argument with Kembry.


"But I don't want that!"

I've tried everything.  Everything.  I have even broken down and become the short order cook I so adamantly swore I would not become.

Arguing with her: doesn't work.

Bargaining with her: psht, like bargaining with the devil.

Begging her: humiliating.

Ignoring her: loud.

Giving into her: BIG mistake.

So, I said, "Fine.  But you'll be hungry."

And then I walked out of the kitchen.  My heart was pounding.  I broke out in a sweat.  No sounds came from the kitchen.  I could feel the shocked silence.

Verdict: she ate it.

WINNER!!!!!!!!

Are my days as the pushy, loud, obnoxious know-it-all over?

You wish.

*By used to, I mean as recently as Saturday.  So, really, "used to" should be used loosely here.  Very loose.