Selfish
The table is set and dinner is already on our plates. My mother is already sitting down and I join her at the head of the table.
As we’re eating, she turns in her chair and gives me a look. She doesn’t seem impressed with something. I hope it’s not the food, since I helped to make it.
“You’re selfish,” she says.
Oh, God, now what? I think.
“Why?”
“You know why. Don’t you play stupid with me.”
“No, I don’t know why.” I take another bite of my food and look at her quizzically.
She nods towards the end of the table where my glass of red wine is resting near the left side of my plate.
“You’re so selfish that you couldn’t even pour me a glass of wine.”
She wants to start? Ok, fine.
“First off,” I wave my fork in the air, “you have a glass in front of you which you decided to put orange juice in. Second, I have two glasses because after drinking my wine, I’m going to have something else to drink. And, third,” I point the fork upwards, “if you wanted wine, why didn’t you pour some in the first place?”
“When it’s my wine, you always ask if I want some. When it’s your wine, you never want to share.” She takes a bite and chews like a petulant child. “You place it way over there, on the other side of the table,” she points to my side of the table with her fork.
“Where did you want me to place the bottle? On the floor?”
“You’re selfish.” She nods her head, as if to agree with herself. “Hopefully I never have to count on you when I get old.”
Get old? How much older does she think she’s going to get? She’s already old enough.
Growing up in my house, there is a mealtime rule: If it’s on the table, it’s there for you to use. Whether it’s food, drink, plates, cutlery, glassware, or napkins, it is there for everyone.
Now, she’s starting something an argument because I’m not playing waiter? I want to tell her whether she knows that in a restaurant, waiters are tipped 20% for their services, and an additional percentage if there is alcohol.
But, I let it go and take another sip of my wine.
I don’t ask her if she wants any.
As we’re eating, she turns in her chair and gives me a look. She doesn’t seem impressed with something. I hope it’s not the food, since I helped to make it.
“You’re selfish,” she says.
Oh, God, now what? I think.
“Why?”
“You know why. Don’t you play stupid with me.”
“No, I don’t know why.” I take another bite of my food and look at her quizzically.
She nods towards the end of the table where my glass of red wine is resting near the left side of my plate.
“You’re so selfish that you couldn’t even pour me a glass of wine.”
She wants to start? Ok, fine.
“First off,” I wave my fork in the air, “you have a glass in front of you which you decided to put orange juice in. Second, I have two glasses because after drinking my wine, I’m going to have something else to drink. And, third,” I point the fork upwards, “if you wanted wine, why didn’t you pour some in the first place?”
“When it’s my wine, you always ask if I want some. When it’s your wine, you never want to share.” She takes a bite and chews like a petulant child. “You place it way over there, on the other side of the table,” she points to my side of the table with her fork.
“Where did you want me to place the bottle? On the floor?”
“You’re selfish.” She nods her head, as if to agree with herself. “Hopefully I never have to count on you when I get old.”
Get old? How much older does she think she’s going to get? She’s already old enough.
Growing up in my house, there is a mealtime rule: If it’s on the table, it’s there for you to use. Whether it’s food, drink, plates, cutlery, glassware, or napkins, it is there for everyone.
Now, she’s starting something an argument because I’m not playing waiter? I want to tell her whether she knows that in a restaurant, waiters are tipped 20% for their services, and an additional percentage if there is alcohol.
But, I let it go and take another sip of my wine.
I don’t ask her if she wants any.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
4 Comments:
Sounds like you had a fun weekend. :(
Weekend?
This happened on a Thursday.
Last thing I need is to feel shitty seven days a week - Saturday and Sunday are normally kept in an eternal state of blur.
Christ, the drama was flowing everywhere evidently. Not just here.
Kiss,
kb
p.s. pass the wine ya selfish bugger
Hey hey hey! take it easy on the mom mate:)
She needs attention that was it...
a bit of wine would go a long way.
Cheers.
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