He Plays Me

One day last week, the weather plummeted from a choking 33C heat wave that felt like 40C to 14C. The Boy came home sweating. He had been walking fast for some reason. He said, "Mom, I'm so hot. Can you turn the air conditioner back on?"

"No. It's cool out."

"But it's so hot in my room."

"Try opening your window, turning off your computer and keyboard, and turning on your fan."

"I did that but it's still hot."

"Give it more time."

At bed time, he said to me, "I told my friends that you were moving to Afghanistan and I can live in the house. Everyone thinks it's a great idea and they want to live with me. It's one of the greatest thing a parent could do for a child to support him becoming independent. When are you going?"

"That was an idea, a passing thought that flitted through my head out loud. I am not moving to Afghanistan and leaving you the house."

"But mom, I told everyone you were."

"The most that would happen is I visit dad for a few weeks, but not in September. I am going to Orlando with pau-pau, Sis, and the kids in October. So if I visit dad, it will be after that."

"What holiday is that in October? Why are we going to Orlando?"

"Not we. You will be in school. You'll have the house that week I'm away."

"You're not taking me to Orlando? But the kids get to go? They're in school. That's not fair."

"You are in university."

"Well, this is a disappointing day. You don't take me to Orlando, you won't turn the air conditioner on, and you are not moving to Afghanistan. Get out of my room."