Mark, who is all reasonable, says, “You can’t let her get to you.”
Which just goes to show that Mark understands NOTHING of our older daughter’s powers.
Because here I am, reading a book, completely serene and unperturbed.
And then Maj appears, “Mother, may I make some sun tea?”
“Hold on. Let me finish this chapter, and I will help you.”
“Mother, it’s sun tea.”
“What’s your point?”
“Tea bags, water, and sun . . . I do not think I need assistance to bring these three ingredients together. The drink’s name has two of the ingredients in it, so really all I have to remember is the word of water. I am capable of remembering the word of water.”
“Fine. Go and do.”
“Great. So where is the sun-tea jar?”
“No idea. Look around.”
“I have already looked everywhere.”
“You have looked nowhere. You haven’t moved from that spot.”
“Good falsehood spotting, Mother. I have looked nowhere. So where is the sun-tea jar?”
“Go look for it. How hard can it be to find? It’s large and glass and it has a spout and a red plastic top and flowers painted on the sides.”
“All handy information if I had asked you to describe the sun-tea jar. Unfortunately, I was not hoping to turn this into a police matter . . . I do not want to take a missing-jar report. I am fairly confident the jar is not missing, and so that would be a waste of my energy and yours. Also, the jar has watermelons painted on it. Watermelons with vines . . . there may be a few small white flowers, but to suggest that they are the primary decoration is clearly wrong at best and at worst, blatantly misleading.”
“Oh . . . my . . . god.”
“Anyway, where is the sun-tea jar?”
“Go look for it.”
A few moments pass, and she is back, “I have looked everywhere. Where is it?”
“Did you look in the cupboards?”
“Mother, I looked everywhere.”
“Well, then it’s gone.”
“It’s not gone, Mother. That is ridiculous.”
“Well, then go look for it until you actually find it.”
“I have looked everywhere.”
“Did you look on top of the refrigerator?”
“No reason for it to be there.”
“But did you look there?”
“I do not look in places where there is no reason to look, Mother.”
“Go look on top of the refrigerator.”
Off she goes, grumbling loudly, “Maybe next, you will ask me to look in the garbage cans or in my closet or under my bed, because those places are just as likely as . . . Oh . . . found it, Mother!”
“Good.”
“Alright, so here we go into the heart of the tea-making.”
“Maj, I am reading . . . stop talking to me.”
“OK, but how many teabags should I use?”
“I do not even care.”
“Hmmm . . . last time I used five, but I am thinking this time I will use six. Do you think six would send the tea awry?”
“Maj, stop talking to me.”
“OK, but is six OK?”
“AUGH! Six is fine.”
I hear her pulling out all of the small boxes of herbal tea, “OK, so one of these peach guys and two of these raspberry guys and one orange and another orange and then maybe one of these pomegranate guys for some zing . . . Mother, am I wise to include pomegranate?”
“Mother?”
“Mother, this is a matter of some urgency . . . I need to know if pomegranate would merely add an acceptable level of zing or would it be all pom pom pom all over the place and undo the subtle taste combinations the other teabags have agreed to work together to achieve?”
I sigh, “Trust in the zing, babe.”
“I would, Mother . . . but I fear you haven’t given this enough thought.”
“I have thought deeply, and I vote for zing.”
“Yes, well . . . if only I could be assured of the zing. I worry that instead there will be pomming of a rampaging nature.”
“I do not actually care.”
“Yes, I suspected as much. Alright, Mother . . . I am leaving out the pomegranate. Thoughtful minds have prevailed, Mother.”
“Shhhhhh.”
“Hey, Mother? Can I use that big plastic lemonade dispenser instead? I could make huge amounts of tea in that bad boy!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I tick off the reasons, “One . . . It is plastic, and the plastic will leach into the warm liquid and make the tea taste funny. Two . . . we do not need that much sun tea. Three . . . that lemonade dispenser is made to use outside; it won’t fit in our refrigerator without moving shelves around, which I am not inclined to do. So, to sum up . . . no.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to think outside the box, Mother. Here’s Maj, all creative and innovative and box-pummeling and then here’s you, all cubing up the world.”
“Maj, did I mention how much I want to stop talking about all aspects of sun-tea?”
“Daddy’s right. You’re crabbier than the average woman.”
“Whatever.”
“Alright, I am just going to speed up the tea process by using hot water from the hot-water dispenser.”
AUGH . . . “No, babe. Use cold water.”
She appears in the doorway, “What? Why? Why must you box me, woman of cubes?”
“Because the water from the hot water dispenser is just below boiling. You will crack the glass of the sun-tea container with the extreme heat. Also? The whole point of sun-tea is to allow the SUN to warm and brew the tea . . . it makes for a softer more delicate taste.”
She holds the empty container in the air and speaks to it, “Exploding glass and boiling water crisis averted, sweetheart. Good thing the Maj is on the ball!”
I hear the sound of running water and then, “Alright, Mother . . . I have dropped in the teabags and it occurs to me that I should have pulled off their little paper tags. Is it OK if the paper is in there? What do you think? I think it is not OK, but it’s in there and sometimes this family is more lax about things than I would be, so . . . Mother?”
“Take the paper tags out. They have ink on them, and the paper will dissolve . . . that’s not ideal. Take the tags out.”
“OK, so let me fish those guys out, and . . . what about the strings?”
“Maj, if Daddy was here, I would bonk him right on top of his stupid head. You are driving me insane.”
“So leave the strings in the tea? Or rip them from the bags? I need to know, Mother.”
“Maj, can you not make a single tea-related decision without my input?”
“MOTHER, ALL I WANT TO KNOW IS IF THE STRINGS WILL POISON ME. IT IS NOT UNREASONABLE TO NOT WANT TO BE STRING-POISONED.”
“So rip the strings off.”
“That is exactly what I will do. I will just rip these toxic threads off, and . . . uh oh.”
“What?”
“Never mind . . . I’m sure it will be fine. This tea knows to stay in its bags . . . Just because there is a door, that doesn’t mean you have to walk through it . . . right, tea? Mother, tea and I have come to an understanding about the small rippages.”
“Alright, babe.”
“It really is nice to have things completely under control, don’t you find, Mother?”
“Uh huh.”
“MOTHER, WHAT IF THERE IS CAFFEINE IN THIS TEA AND I GET ALL HYPER?”
“Uh huh.”
“MOTHER, I CAN’T GET THE TOP SCREWED ON . . . IT IS FAULTY, MOTHER! THE FAULT IS WITH THE TOP, MOTHER! THERE IS A SCREW-FAULT!”
“Uh huh.”
“NEVER MIND, MOTHER. TOP IS IN PLACE!”
“Uh huh.”
“HOPE I DON’T DROP THIS ON THE WAY OUT THE DOOR!”
“Uh huh.”
“EEK EEK EEK! THE DECK IS HOT AND I AM BURNING MY FEET! WAY TO ADVISE PROPER SUN-TEA MAKING FOOTWEAR, MOTHER.”
“Uh huh.”
“SUB-PAR MOTHERING, MOTHER. SUB-PAR BY FAR.”
“Uh huh.”
Mark walks into the room and stands over where I am curled up on the floor in a fetal position, “Kris, you can’t keep letting her get to you this way.”
“Uh huh.”
Ding!
“I SET A TIMER . . . IT’S BEEN TWO MINUTES. MOTHER, WANT SOME TEA? IT MUST BE READY NOW, RIGHT?”
“Uh huh.”
“MOTHER, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO DRINK TEA CURLED UP IN A SMALL DEFENSIVE BALL? WHAT ARE YOU, A HEDGEHOG? GET UP AND MOTHER ME RIGHT THIS INSTANT, MOTHER!”
Maj appears holding up the decidedly unsunned container of tea, “Also, Mother? Look . . . watermelons and vines. Told you so.”
I curl into a smaller hedgehog.
That girl gets to me.
Every time.
