An interesting talk from our minivan Monday night about what people are "good at" versus what they struggle with.
Oldest (step)daughter asked me: "Tell me something I'm bad at."
Frankly, I'm not sure what her motivation was in asking me this. The conversation was preceded by me saying something about how I know I'm not good at lots of things - but I'm good at guessing how long it will take for us to get from point A to point B in the car.. that I have a good gut feel for that sort of thing. Anyhow - she persisted and this is how it went:
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Em: Tell me something I'm bad at. Really.
Me: Well, how about I tell you about the "sandwich" method?
Em: OK. How's that?
Me: Well, you start with a positive thing - that's the squishy white bread on the top. Then you give the meat: the sandwich middle. That's the bit to chew on and think about - the criticism. Then you follow that with another positive - another slice of squishy white bread.
Em: OK. Go.
Me: Well, first off you are very empathetic - do you know what that means?
Em: Yeah.
Me: (droning on and on)... you have the most kind generous giving heart. You are very sensitive to other people and--
Em: (impatient) - OK OK, tell me what I'm bad at.
Me: (hesitant) Um, well, when you want to play with something you dump it all out and often move on to the next thing.. it's like the organization thing your teacher mentioned. You need to clean up and get things set back where they belong before you move on to the next thing..or else you'll lose things. Like those --
Em: (totally unimpressed.) Oh. Is that all?
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What? She expected me to say: "Oh, well you struggle with a deep secret we've never told you. See, you're actually a princess in a faraway land and we've been raising you here in suburban Minnesota so you can have a chance at a normal childhood."
Me thinks she's seen one-too-many Disney movies perhaps.
It reminds me of the reaction I've been getting to this burn on my hand. People stare and don't want to ask - and then sometimes pluck up the courage to ask about this big 2 inch open sore on my hand.
"Ohhhh.. What happened to your hand?"
And every time I say: "Oh, burnt it getting muffins out of the oven" this look of total disappointment flashes on their face. So last night Hubby and I came up with a more salacious answer for my future use.
Next person who asks me gets THIS:
"Oh. I did a very bad thing. I ironed his shirts ALL WRONG. So he HAD to teach me a lesson. It's all my fault that I angered him so..."
Seems to me that's the sort of answer people are hoping to hear anyhow - some deep dark secret or somesuch rather than just hearing that I was half-asleep and/or clutzy baking blueberry muffins over the weekend.
And yes, that's just the sort of sick humor we have at my house.. my apologies if I've offended any REAL battered women. The only battery that occurs at my house is me injuring myself running into walls, tables, and all manner of furniture. This is why my first choice in home furnishings always involves ROUNDED CORNERS. And there's your REAL deep dark secret for the day.. I buy only rounded edges on furniture.
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