Saturday morning, I have to drive 14 year old Sandor to his job at 10:30 am. He’s a busboy and a crazy popular pizza restaurant. But today is different, I’ve convinced my husband, Alex, the sometimes curmudgeon, to drive with me and stop by the wonderful Hot Springs Farmers Market afterwards.
The top is down, I have a convertible, the morning is beautiful and our son, Sandor is in the back seat.
Alex looks over at me. ” I can’t believe you made me wear this sweatshirt.”
“Come on, it’s soft and nice and new, what’s the problem?”
“I like my old red sweatshirt. I don’t care what people think.”
“”You look really nice, though,” I pleaded.
“Sandor, she’s being mean to me.”
I rolled my eyes, looked at him and smiled, “What? I’m making you go to the Farmer’s Market on a beautiful Saturday morning. That’s so awful? I’m sounding like a Jewish Grandmother, right?”
“What ever, the Elite Eight, NCAA, first game starts in three hours.”
I playfully smacked him. “What ever, I’ll have you home two hours before tip off. Just enjoy the morning.”
And then were were silent for a moment. I looked in the rear view mirror and locked eyes with Sandor. He smiled at me. “What? What are you grinning about?” I asked him.
He just shook his head, “You guys are adorable.”
We got Sandor to his job on time. I stopped the car and looked at Alex, “Adorable. He called us adorable. You know what that means?”
Alex pulled a cigarette out, waiting to get out of the car so he could smoke it. “Hell yeah, he’s calling us old.”
“Exactly!” I said.
“It’s ok, we still got it,” Alex said to me, trying to dismiss the fact Sandor called us “adorable.”
Alex and I now comfortably fall into old people grumbling, bickering, bitching.
I looked at him. “We still got it?”
“Hell yeah,” he replied ruefully, like a dude from The Outsiders.
“Well ok then. Let’s tear up the Farmer’s Market.”
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