My step son is staying with us for two weeks and then he is moving in at the end of the summer to start school in NYC. I adore that kid. I was super anxious before he arrived because I was worried that he’d look at me and say, “I HATE YOU!” and then become all allergic to Nicki and we’d have to get rid of her, and possibly of me, and it would just be upsetting.
But he seems not to be allergic, he and Nicki are getting along and he hasn’t told me that he hates me yet, although admittedly, it’s still early.
We went to the dacha over the weekend, and it was so beautiful, except at some point I became convinced that my daughter had The Lyme Disease/Swine Flu combination. Because on Friday she had a fever and then she was lethargic for the rest of the weekend. I should explain that her lethargic and my lethargic are very different, because when I am lethargic, I try not to lift a finger, whereas while she was lethargic, she still managed to go on a hike, play baseball and teach me some karate moves, but would rest after.
So I told her that I was going to take her to the doctor on Monday morning first things and she pleaded with me not to, because they were having a special workshop presentation and I relented and said that I’d pick her up an hour early from school and take her to the doctor then and she said no again, because that is shop time and she didn’t want to miss that, but she did volunteer that she has math at 1 and that she doesn’t mind missing that one bit.
So we went to the doctor after school and turns out that she has strep. Needless to say, my throat immediately starts to hurt and as I tell everyone at dinner that she has strep, Husbandrinka and Young Ladrinka announce that their throats also hurt. I ask my step son if he is similarly afflicted and he says, “no”. I give him three months of living with us before we turn him into a hypochondriac.
And then at dinner, Young Ladrinka tells me that he and three of his classmates have a huge secret, so I say “TELL ME!” and he says “no” and I ask “is it juicy?” and he says, “it has nothing to do with juice, but we’ll get in trouble if I tell”, which isn’t something to say if you don’t want your mother on your case, just an FYI.
So, I say, “I’ll give you $1 if you tell me.” And he says, “Make it $20,” and I’m all “forget it,” and he says, “$5” and I’m holding firm and he says “Ok, $1” and I say, “nope, no longer interested” and he says, “fine, I’ll just tell you.” And I say “nope, now you have to give me $5 to listen to it” and he says “please, can I tell you?” and I say “ok” and he tells me.
And it was pretty damn good. But I’m not telling you. Unless you give me $1.
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