You’ve heard the illustrations about the differences between men and women- like men are waffle irons, neatly compartmented in their thinking, and women are spaghetti- everything is interconnected.
Or men are computers with only one browser button open at a time, and sometimes the browser button is ’empty,’ and women don’t have an empty box, and we have 30 windows open at once. Etc.
I have another one. Here’s how I came up with it:
See…. today my son explained why it would be really, really cool to use his golf club and putt old glass Christmas balls. The fact that they might sometimes break was seen as a good thing. He seriously asked me where he could do this. Isn’t it pathetic that the situation here is such that I am immensely overjoyed that at least he asked? This is grand progress.
Only…. my husband also seriously tried to think of a place where The Boy could do this, because it would be cool.
I said no. Not inside, not outside, because there is nowhere that I was okay with broken shards of glass. Grandbabies and Little Boys play here and sometimes go barefoot. So do my children even if they aren’t little any more. So do dogs. I said a lot about this, and all very fast. My tone may or may not have been pitched a little bit on the high side. I’m not telling.
My husband: Slow down. I am still thinking this through. Obviously not inside because we don’t want glass here, but I’m trying to think of somewhere outside where this might work. So just slow down and think about it.
Me: But I am a woman, so I have already gone through all the possibilities and reached the only possible logical conclusion and that is, no, because there is nowhere outside that I am okay with broken shards of glass being deposited ON PURPOSE. Being a woman, I didn’t have to slow down to think that through. It was instantaneously clear to me.
My Husband: eye-roll
That’s what he does when he knows that there is no rebuttal. Or at least not one I’m buying.
I didn’t even mention the part where I had instantaneous visions of shattered slivers of broken Christmas ornament flying through the air off the golf club and blinding my son. Not to mention the fact that the old balls are probably painted with lead based paints, so now he’d be putting lead in his blood stream. There are other disasters I was able to picture instantaneously as well, but they are too gruesome to mention. Arteries were involved. Then there were the secondary infections caused by glass splinters too small to see them to remove them from some small person’s foot in time before sepsis and all manner of mortifying wounds and infections had set in.
My mind, when confronted with questions involving possible harm to the children is a multi-plex IMAX theater with surround sound and at least a dozen movies playing simultaneously (with sound effects and more), with a different card from ‘worst case scenario’ playing out on each screen.
My husband’s mind’s eye view for foreseeing potential disasters is more like a viewmaster.
Click- one image to ponder thoughtfully, and reach a measured conclusion. Clunk. The next image comes into view.
Meanwhile, I’ve already processed 30 technicolor and 3-D images at once, all of which lead to the ER .