This Story is Fourteen Seconds Old

Coffee shop with B and G.

Bribing them with lemon poppy seed cake they eagerly agreed to join me and do their homework while I work on my book.

(I thought it was done too but apparently the editor can totally ask you to rewrite stuff).

Boys taking their work out of their bags and pretending to study.

Server comes over to wipe up a few crumbs.

Sorry about the mess.

That's OK.  You should have seen the mess I made this morning.

Really?

Boys eyes glazing over.  They are thinking: Mom, is it strictly necessary for you to to speak to every single person in the entire world.

Server still talking.

Spilled milk everywhere.  Probably should have gone home last night instead of playing beer pong (for those of you who didn't go to college).

Beer pong? Boys snap to attention.

She continues.

I'm not so good at Beer Pong so I'm a little - uh - "tired" this morning.  My sister is way better than me. My younger sister.

And by the way can you lower the volume on your computer so it doesn't beep?

Presses hand to temple.

Complaint tie-in:  I don't mind a little small talk from my coffee shop server.  Nice weather we're having.  Boy I miss those Habs.  Even a what do you think of the new mayor would be ok in a pinch.

But bragging about your drinking games? Like, seriously?

Dude. Please.