Jason did this thing today which annoyed me, and then amused me, and then basically made me call Michelle at 2 in the afternoon to tell her about it. I can’t let it die there. It’s just too stupid-funny not to share.

For any newcomers to my life, (A) Jason is my husband, and (B) he is extremely particular about things. It’s one of his more endearing traits. It usually presents itself in art projects or creative endeavors, where he has an end goal in mind, and is striving by any means possible to meet that goal (see: Eli’s insane party site). Today, it presented itself in EVERYTHING. He wanted everything in life Just So, except that he was doing the worst job ever communicating it.

The day starts off, and everyone’s in a great mood. Jason having his first pick-up basketball game at work. He’s excited. I always tease him that he works in a sitcom, because there is always some Theme To The Day. If it’s not Weekly Basketball Game, it’s Company Lunch Out Where A Gossip Bomb is Dropped or The Day People Play Belated April Fool’s Jokes (“Why did they blow up that picture of me for the lifesize poster? It’s the worst one ever!” Jason complained). Anyway. Jason loves basketball, and he really wants new sneakers, because his only pair is for running. His birthday is early May, so I told him I’d buy him an early present. “Come by before four with my sneakers,” Jason asks, “because I want them before the big game.”

“Done,” I tell him.

It takes me forever to find the Foot Locker he directed me to, and I actually DON’T find it; I find it’s illegitimate brother, FootAction Superstore. Unload the kids. There are three men in a van parked next to me that do this really creepy ogling, and I scurry inside with both children gripped tight.

I call J up inside. “Okay, what shoes did you want?”

“I’m on the computer right now,” he says. “I’m trying to narrow it down.”

Me, gripping Addie’s shirt before she ducks under another display. “Give me your top three.”

“Well– alright.” (HERE IT BEGINS.) “You should search them by brand. If you’re looking at Nikes, I want the Nike Zoom BB II, and that Roman numeral two, two ones, like I’s. Zoom is spelled Z O O M.”

“Got it.”

“Are you writing this down?”

“No, are you kidding? I’m trying to keep the kids in order. I’m committing it to memory.”

“Hold on. If you get me a Nike, you’ll want a 10 and a half, but forget that if you’re looking at other brands– if you look at Reeboks, you want a 10, but not if you’re looking at Nikes, okay? Then you will NOT want a 10. Also, they come in multicolors, but don’t get those. I want black. If you see a blue and white sneaker with a red stripe, you don’t want it, okay? Also, not in a size 10. That’s only if you do the Reebok Question 3, which is a new version of the Question, which I don’t think is Roman numerals. So you’d want a 10 in the Question 3, but not in the Nike Zoom BB II, which would be a 10 and a half, which you want black– the Zoom BB II, not the Question 3, which I’d be more willing to explore color choices in.”

“JASON.” Oh em gee. “Just. Okay, you telling me what you DON’T want in confusing language isn’t helping me. Please, tell me what you DO want.”

“I’m TRYING.”

“No, you’re trying to make my life difficult. Just tell me the names and colors.”

“Becca,” Jason is getting frustrated too, “you need to just LISTEN. I’m TELLING YOU.”

I look at Addie and Elias, and give them the GLARE. Get over here, you two. Don’t knock anything over.

“Nike Zoom BB II, black, not the colors you mentioned, and in a 10, not a 10 and a half.”

“No, IN a 10 and a half.”

“Is this the one you want?” I ask, more sharply than I intended. “Because I’ll ask about it right now.”

“No,” Jason said. “I really want the Nike Air Raid.”

CUT TO: They don’t have any of the list, which is three specific shoes long, and I have to take the kids back out to the car by the Creepy Eye Stalkers. I call Jason to tell him tough luck. I’ll try someplace else. Also, would he like Wendy’s? Yes, he would.

I get off the phone and onto the highway, thinking about the best way to get home. Fail to notice I am on the wrong highway. Ten miles later, I realize I’m approaching another town. I call Jason.

BECCA: I’m lost!

JASON: Where are you?

BECCA: I don’t know! I’m lost! Um– Knightdale?

JASON: Hold on, I’ll MapQuest you. What road are you on?

BECCA: I’m on some kind of highway! The– hold on. 440?

JASON: Where on 440?

BECCA: I don’t know, let me– I’m going to get off at this exit.

JASON: What exit?

BECCA: I didn’t check. I just got off.

JASON: What’s the road name?

BECCA: … Let me look… Yonkers?

JASON: … Which way on Yonkers? That just runs north and south along the highway.

BECCA: I’m realizing that! CRAP!

JASON: Calm down. Just turn around.

BECCA: I can’t get back on the highway! NOW I’M STUCK ON YONKERS!

JASON: Okay, just–

BECCA: I think I can get back on the– okay, here’s a road, here. I’m turning west on 440, to go back.

JASON: You need to go east!

BECCA: I was going east!

JASON: Did you pass Capital Boulevard?

BECCA: Yes.

JASON: You need to go east.

I pull into the lane at the last minute to go east, just before I hear Jason say:

JASON: Well, I guess you could’ve passed Capital Boulevard from either direction. Maybe it’s west. I don’t know.

BECCA: Okay, I’m going west.

I do.

BECCA: This is the right way. Whew. I can get on 40 from here.

JASON: I think you’re going the wrong way.

BECCA: No, I’m not. I’m passing buildings on the opposite side now.

JASON: Did you pass Capital Boulevard?

BECCA: Yes, I just did.

JASON: Oh… no.

BECCA: Jason.

JASON: Did you– oh wait. Never mind. I don’t know where you are.

BECCA: JASON WHAT?

JASON: I’m looking at my map wrong.

CUT TO: Me, nervous wreck. Kids are starving in the back. “I’ll call you when I get to Wendy’s,” I tell him, and hang up. Make it to Wendy’s. Call him back.

BECCA: Okay, what did you want? MAKE IT SIMPLE.

JASON: Geez, I will.

BECCA: Sorry. Go ahead.

JASON: I just want a homestyle chicken filet combo.

BECCA: Homestyle chicken filet combo. Got it. Okay.

JASON: Medium.

BECCA: Medium.

JASON: With a root beer. Preferably no ice.

BECCA: Alllright.

JASON: Also, the combo should be number 6, but it might be 7. It’s not the one with the spicy chicken.

BECCA: You’re doing it again.

JASON: What? I just want you to know the right number. Which could be 6 or 7, but is definitely not 8, so don’t get it. And when you get up to order, remember: Ultimate Chicken Grill Combo is NOT WHAT YOU WANT.

In the end, after all the drama, Jason never got his shoes, and playing basketball outside in the bright 80 degree weather made him sick. I spent the rest of the night nursing him back to health. Poor guy. We did laugh about his instructional issues later, and he even knew I was going to write about it. I love that he’s a good sport about this kind of stuff. I try to be, too.

While J was playing basketball, I was re-arranging the entire house. He brought home some free bookcases they were throwing out at the office, which ended up matching our playroom perfectly. I couldn’t figure out where to stick the bookcases in the old layout, so I decided– impromptu– to move all the furniture. Then I moved into both kids’ rooms, and worked my magic. The entire upstairs looks different. And better, I think. I even tried to fix Eli’s Mac, which needs a new OS, by installing Leopard. Fail. He’s gunning for a fresh computer as is (totally our kid).

Elias: drew vampires and witches and skeletons all day from a library book called “How To Draw Weirdos”. He then cut them all out and made a family of weirdos to live in his room. Sweet, sweet weirdos, he greeted them happily. Yeah, he says stuff like that. I don’t even have to embellish.

Addie: ran up to me today, gasping, i gettin’ skared of bruddy’s WEIRDOOS! I’ve never heard her say ‘scared’ before. She nailed it. She is also scared of Lola, Eli’s light saber, creaking steps, and being left alone. It amazes me how much she’s talking now– I can’t get over it. It’s like floodgates have opened. Her nighttime parting went from “nye nye” to “gud nite, mommy! i luf you! sweet dweams!”

Me: Tired and achy. Very, very, very glad you all liked the writing. It’s hard to share that kind of thing if it’s near and dear to you– it’s like finally handing over a photo of your new baby, and waiting for someone to call it ugly. Heh. So thank you– tremendously– for telling me I had a cute kid.

Also: Hot Chris and Hot Family never declined our invitation. Someone messing with the page logged in as them and declined. Hmm. Bad news: SECURITY BREACH. Good news: Hot Chris and Hot Family may still be coming. Bad news: I ate all those Doritos.

Also: Is Rapture by Pedro the Lion this catchy to anyone else? It’s been in my head for weeks.

Also: I had a dream last night about Amy. It was absolutely lovely. I woke up smiling.