Sometimes I wonder if Michael and I are actually even having the same conversation.
Setting: After dinner tonight.
Scene: I walked into the kitchen as Michael was putting some items into the dishwasher. I spotted a flimsy baggie of left-over gravy on the counter.
Me: “Honey, what have I asked you to do with creamy or liquid substances?”
Michael: “I don’t know.”
Me: “Where have I asked you to put them?”
Michael: “In my mouth.”
Me: “I mean once you are finally full.”
Michael: “In your mouth.”
Me: “No. Assume I am already full too. Into what should you put the left-over creamy or liquid things?”
Michael: “The refrigerator?”
Me: “Eventually. They need to go into Tupperware containers first. What happens when somebody doesn’t see your flimsy baggie here and puts something heavy on top of it?”
Michael: “It squishes out all over the fridge and makes a big mess!”
Michael: “But I could lick it up.”
Me: “No, you won’t. You won’t even realize that anything has oozed out. It will be my job to find it and clean it up. That’s why I have asked you to put things like that into solid plastic containers. Now, if you don’t know where to find the proper size of a plastic container, who should you ask?”
Michael: “I’ll ask Obama! He’ll fix it! He’s going to fix everything!”