Wednesday, November 09, 2005

It's genetic

I had assumed that the crazy conversations I have with my son were due to his age. I'm now beginning to wonder if they're in fact due to a recessive, generation-skipping gene passed down from my mother. (I say generation-skipping because everything I say makes perfect sense. Everything. All the time. Always.)

In support of my new theory, I present to you Exhibit A: the official transcript of a conversation I recently had with my mom about her friend, Sally.

- Do you remember my friend Sally?
- Yeah.
- I ran into a friend of hers at the bus stop the other day. She's living in Wenatchee now.
- Sally, or her friend from the bus stop?
- Sally.
- Wasn't she living in LA? How'd she end up in Wenatchee? How does that happen, that people just find themselves in Wenatchee of all places?
- Her sister lives there.
- Oh.
- I didn't even know she had a sister.
- Doesn't she have a twin? I seem to remember her having a twin.
- She is a twin.
- That's what I'm saying.
- Yeah, she has a twin.
- Well...
- What?
- Doesn't that count as a sister?
- Not if it's a boy.
- Oh. She has a twin brother?
- No, it's a sister.
- [confused silence]
- Why are you looking at me like that?

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