Tire Pressure

Admittedly, I am not the most knowledgable or observant person, especially when it comes to cars. They just don't rank high on my list of daily thoughts and priorities, especially since most days I have a hard time even leaving my house.

After church one Sunday, my husband silently brooded all the way to the gas station to fill the nearly empty gas tank (another regular offense of mine) and while pumping gas, noticed that the air in the tires was low. When I got out of the van to take my son to the bathroom, he pointed this out with a curt, "The air in the tires is low." I replied with a quick, "OK, thanks," to which he responded, "PAY ATTENTION!"

Man, that guy needs a different wife. There is no way tires even enter my cognizance most days. I'm just happy when there are no flashy red lights on my dashboard.

Obsessive-Compusive Gamer?

When my six-year-old bought himself a new game, he asked to play with his siblings. His older brother (13) got the game out, and also a complimentary game of his dad's.

When dad came home late, the kids were still playing. He instructed them to put the games away. Using his usual thoughtfulness and care, my older son stuffed his dad's game in the box and set it next to the bookshelf on which it belonged.

What ensued was a yell-fest at my 13-year-old about the "right" way to put things away:

Husband: "What were you thinking? I have showed you how to put this game away at least three times! What is this? And why isn't the instruction page in the box?"

Son: "The paper wouldn't fit, so I left it on the side."

Husband: "Look, this is what you should do...... wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!! WHY AREN'T YOU LISTENING TO ME?!"

Son (who was attempting to fold the instruction page in half to make it fit in the box): "What?"

Husband: "Don't fold that paper! I never fold that paper! Look, put these like this and this, and tuck the paper over the top and down the sides. And put it back on the shelf just like you found it. In fact, just don't touch my things!"

Son (now teary) wisely remains silent.

Band Aids

The other day, my husband cut his finger while chopping wood. After going into the bathroom to get a band aid, he came storming out, yelling:

"There are no band aids! Why are there no band aids? Because you kids use a band aid for every little scratch and bump and now there are no band aids for your dad, who is bleeding all over the place!"

This made the kids cry, of course. But he wasn't finished....

After I found him a band aid:

Him: "Next time can you get NORMAL band aids, not the little ones?"
Me: "I thought those were normal band aids. I just grabbed a box at the dollar store."
Him: "These are not normal size! Just look at them!"
Me: "Um.... OK."

In his defense, they were smaller than the next kind I bought, but not significantly. They were both "standard size," which seems to vary according to the manufacturer's preference.

Maybe next time I should buy him these: