And so begins the series of Covid posts. Covid? Oh, just a wee global pandemic that has kept us inside since March 17th (aside from time outside and distanced and inside in oddly rearranged grocery stores).
I will be doing some Covid posts, but to get me in the mood (and because we spent about 45 minutes reading blog books out loud tonight), I just need to jump in.
One of the most dreaded questions under any circumstances, but especially Covid-times, is "what's for dinner?". Two of the three kids are endlessly hungry these days. And grocery stores are weird. So it gets annoying.
I had a zoom call with the BYTs tonight and it was getting late, so Eric suggested pizza. We ordered on the app and we were chatting. Finny came into the kitchen from upstairs, asking...you guessed it....what's for dinner. Argh.
Hot dogs (she hates hot dogs). She moaned. I knew she would. I protested (pretty good acting, I thought). I told her the BBQ was already heating up (the BBQ was sitting next to her on the floor stone cold and inside). She begged for...wait for it...pizza. I knew she would. No, I told her. No pizza. No, Eric told her. No pizza. Hot dogs. And stop moaning.
She started to gear up her propaganda machine. She always has an angle and a sales pitch. And she really hates hot dogs. She started to bargain. She quickly got to a year of no complaining basketball filming for Split Second. That sounded like a pretty good deal for a dinner we had already ordered. I fake protested that under no circumstances should Eric make that deal. No...don't do it. They shook on it.
And then I showed her the pizzas, all ready to be picked up and ready to go.
She says she has never felt more betrayed. We enjoyed it very much :)
Although, as a postscript, in her next breath, she started bargaining for WAGES for the filming. She never lets up, that girl!
P.P.S. It's after 1:00 in the morning and the kids are downstairs in their rooms in a nerf gun battle. We have lost the fight. Covid-times are strange!
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