My daughter arrived home from the beach today at 6:45 AM, EST. While I expected her home today I did not expect her home at that ungodly hour. We exchanged pleasantry, and I mean pleasantry, because it consisted of one word, which was “hello”. It was said as she was shaking me awake. Shaking me. I thought we were experiencing a rare east coast earthquake. Once I recovered from the shock and had time to process the fact that I was not going to die as a result of a natural disaster, I responded with my own pleasantry, which was not one word and which I will refrain from repeating here. But it started off something like, “What the…”!
The next thing out of her mouth? Not, “I’m sorry I scared the shit out of you, Mom, but the house is on fire and I wanted to wake you up so that you can escape.” Rather, it was, “Are you aware that the Honey-Nut Cheerios are stale?” I was not, in fact, aware of that. Nor did I care. But instead of having that conversation, I simply welcomed her home with a hearty “Get the f*>k out!”