So Cool, Right?

A few days ago, after a little banter, Joel made a playful comment about me within the earshot of my oldest child.

"Mama thinks she's so cool. . ." Joel said, sarcasm practically sprouting out his ears.

Everett thought this was hysterical. Putting on his best squinty, sarcastic look and adopting a tone of deep mockery, he went around repeating this phrase for the better part of two days. The only problem was that, as is his habit, he left out a few key words he must have felt were extraneous.

"Mama's so cool. . ." Everett would spout off in his best punkish demeanor.

I grinned every time he said it. To the unaware eavesdropper, it sounded like Everett was indeed praising my coolness. To Joel, the whole thing was a big joke, and he took great pleasure in egging our boy on. Every time Joel used his original phrase to question my relevance, Everett would spout his version off like a compulsive parrot. I was pleased; it sounded like I had an adoring fan.

Today, Everett must have decided that this statement no longer applies. When Joel tried to use it again, things went a little differently.

"Mama thinks she's so cool," Joel said as he fixed a quesadilla for lunch.

"No, Papa, No! Mama's not so cool!" Everett declared, shaking his head obstinately and extending his hand like a traffic controller. He turned to me with a proud grin on his face, pleased with himself for defending my honor.

The only problem was, again Everett left out a few key words. Words that left his statement in complete conflict with his intentions. Words that gave Joel reason to let a hefty dose of smugness spread quickly across his face. Being handed a brand new, perfectly-timed inside joke will do that to a person.

"Mama thinks she's so cool. . ." Joel stated again, looking right at Everett with a teasing glint in his eye.

"No, Papa! Mommy's NOT SO COOL!" Everett shouted back.

Joel grinned triumphantly. Everett scowled. I sighed.

It's going to be a long couple of days. . .