My mom was a big fan of do-overs. For a short while during my childhood we played tennis together as a family -- it was usually me and Mom against Dad and my brother. Whenever Dad or Matt would hit a laser close to Mom, she's shout "Too hard! Do-over!" The point didn't count. It was like it never happened.
We've all had the experience of waking up at 2am and finally coming up with the perfect comeback to someone's snarky comment earlier in the day. If only we had a verbal do-over.
If I could go back in time, here are a few of my verbal do-overs from the past week. Feel free to share yours in the comments section or in your own blogs (doesn't everybody have one now?).
#1 -- YMCA locker room (bet you'd never have guessed)
Setting: I'm getting undressed to take a shower, and a very naked man, in absolutely no rush to find or don clothing, asks me what I do for a living. My answer ended up starting a long, uncomfortable discussion that seemed full of inuendo (on his end).
What he said: "What do you do for a living?"
What I said: "I'm in Sales."
My verbal do-over: "I work for the CIA, running sting operations to capture sex perverts."
#2 -- Trunk-or-Treat at our church
Setting: Our van was one of the 70 vehicles that was decorated and setup to pass out candy to kids in our parking lot. Over 4,000 people attended. Have you ever passed out candy to 4,000 people? It's exhausting. After two hours of candy and costumes, my sense of humor started getting weird, and it completely turned off an asian mother. Apparently what they perceive as funny is very different. And very not me.
What she said: "You Shaggy from Scooby Doo! You look just like him!"
What I said: "Thank you; it took hours of make-up. I'm actually a short blonde man." (She proceeded to scowl and walk away angrily)
My verbal do-over: "Thank you! Happy Halloween!"
#3 -- Ice cream surprise
Setting: Me, Jamie and the kids were at our regular Friday night ice cream date (Marble Slab in Houston). Samantha got out an imaginary yardstick and began measuring things. Then she decided to measure me, starting from my toes and ending at my head:
What she said: "One, two three, four... ten inches. Are you ten inches, Daddy?"
What I said: "Not now, but maybe later. It depends on Mommy."
My verbal do-over: "Not in my wildest dreams, sweetheart."
Love as Procedural Memory
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