Suspicions about glassware
Apr. 21st, 2008 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegkerrI am deeply suspicious about the oh-so-innocent glassware tumblers we have in our house. They seem to emit a brain-dampening wave that depresses conscious thought. That is the only explanation that occurs to me. Remember in Tam Lin how Janet discovered she wasn't able to think about the ghost who threw books from her dormitory window, as long as she [Janet] was at school? Yeah. Exactly like that.
I have made several variations on the following little speech to my offspring three or four times this past week: "My darlings, I can't help but notice a teensy little problem whenever I come home from work. Specifically, it seems that every single glass in the house seems to end up, not in the cupboard, in a shiny, pristine, squeaky-clean state as I'd expect, but instead they're filled with Kool-aid and/or Fresca and/or milk and/or what have you and spread out all over the counters. This is a problem, my loves, because it is very difficult to cook dinner when there isn't a spare inch of counterspace, not to mention the irritation of not having any clean glasses when it comes time to serve dinner.
"So do you think you could possibly, possibly pick up the sponge and wash out your own glasses and put them in the drainer throughout the afternoon?"
They gave me stunned, blank, and slightly guilty looks.
"I know it never occurs to you to do so, ordinarily," I said even more sweetly (as sweetly as Dolores Umbridge). "But it really isn't that difficult. So could you try? Please? For me?"
"Yes, Mommy," they chorused, looking ever so angelic.
"Thank you, my precious poppets."
But you guessed it. I come home from work, and there are all the glasses, spread out over the counter again. What could it be? Despite their earnest promises, it seems that whenever that dirty glass is in their hand, the girls make their way, lemming-like, to the kitchen and deposit it on the counter. As if they are absolutely unable to engage their brains to command their hands to clean that glass as long as they are holding it. Despite repeated promises.
It's uncanny. It's perplexing.
I dunno . . . could the glassware be planning something nefarious? Is that why they are loitering in such a suspicious manner on my counters--and mysteriously shutting off my family's higher cognitive functions?
I have made several variations on the following little speech to my offspring three or four times this past week: "My darlings, I can't help but notice a teensy little problem whenever I come home from work. Specifically, it seems that every single glass in the house seems to end up, not in the cupboard, in a shiny, pristine, squeaky-clean state as I'd expect, but instead they're filled with Kool-aid and/or Fresca and/or milk and/or what have you and spread out all over the counters. This is a problem, my loves, because it is very difficult to cook dinner when there isn't a spare inch of counterspace, not to mention the irritation of not having any clean glasses when it comes time to serve dinner.
"So do you think you could possibly, possibly pick up the sponge and wash out your own glasses and put them in the drainer throughout the afternoon?"
They gave me stunned, blank, and slightly guilty looks.
"I know it never occurs to you to do so, ordinarily," I said even more sweetly (as sweetly as Dolores Umbridge). "But it really isn't that difficult. So could you try? Please? For me?"
"Yes, Mommy," they chorused, looking ever so angelic.
"Thank you, my precious poppets."
But you guessed it. I come home from work, and there are all the glasses, spread out over the counter again. What could it be? Despite their earnest promises, it seems that whenever that dirty glass is in their hand, the girls make their way, lemming-like, to the kitchen and deposit it on the counter. As if they are absolutely unable to engage their brains to command their hands to clean that glass as long as they are holding it. Despite repeated promises.
It's uncanny. It's perplexing.
I dunno . . . could the glassware be planning something nefarious? Is that why they are loitering in such a suspicious manner on my counters--and mysteriously shutting off my family's higher cognitive functions?