From the Mind...and Mouth...of Riley

You know how people say they'd like to be a "fly on the wall", to be able to eavesdrop on certain private conversations, or observe something happening behind closed doors? Well, there are times when I'd think it'd be fascinating to be able to see firsthand exactly what goes on inside the complicated mechanism of Riley's brain.. (Let me think, what would work in this scenario? Hmm...any kind of insect would be too invasive, and potentially harmful. And some sort of...advanced alien life form, visiting for research purposes, sounds too...creepy. Ooh, I know--I could use a microscopic submarine like in the movie Fantastic Voyage! Yeah, that's totally doable...)

Anyway, last night, for example, we were pulling into the garage fairly late in the evening, after a lovely time spent with a friend and her family, eating and chatting and congregating around their backyard fire pit. Husband's car stereo was set to the local classic rock station, as it often is, and Eddie Money's tune Two Tickets to Paradise began to play. I don't know if it was the fact that it had been a long day and he was tired...or he's just an innate gooberhead...but Riley piped up from the back seat, "Here's what I don't get about this song." ("Uh-oh, here we go," I thought, as alarm bells started shrieking in my head. ") "What's that, buddy?" Husband innocently asked. (Meanwhile, "Are you crazy? Do you even KNOW your son? You're only going to encourage the madness!" I said...silently...I tell ya, it was a very effective exchange...in my imagination...)

But it was far too late to turn back, as Riley launched into the following: "Well, he says he's got two tickets to paradise, pack your bags, we'll leave tonight." (Yeaaahhh, we're all--cautiously--with you so far...) "But he doesn't say what time they're leaving! Or...or where they're actually going! I mean, you don't know what to pack, or when to show up. And the flight could be delayed, so that would be another problem..." Oh. Good. Grief. I just wordlessly shook my head, as Derek turned to his brother, mouth gaping and expression incredulous. Finally the teenager managed to sputter, "WHY are you so concerned with Eddie Money's vacation plans?" And Husband? He sat with his head resting on the steering wheel, shaking with uncontrollable muted laughter, completely unable to speak or move. So congratulations, son; you succeeded in incapacitating your entire family...with one well-delivered '70s pop rant...

Less than 12 hours later, he was up and at it again. (Memo To Me: in future,  if at all possible, avoid youngest son until AFTER ingestion of coffee...) I had instigated a food-related discussion with Derek the previous morning--while watching him toast 2 full-sized bagels for his breakfast. I opined that perhaps that was more carbs than any human being truly NEEDED to consume in one meal, and suggested that he at least put something on them that contained protein and healthy fat, to provide more balanced nutrition. (And--bonus--keep him full for a longer period...you know, if that's even feasible...) So instead of his usual oleo, I offered cream cheese or peanut butter. "Is it creamy or crunchy?" he inquired of the latter choice. When I informed him it was the smooth variety, he turned up his nose, but condescended to use it anyway, given the lack of his preferred type. (A peanut butter snob--who knew?) I promised I'd get him the other kind on my next excursion to the grocery store...

Which led me to pose the same question to Riley the next day. He immediately, emphatically responded, "Oh, I don't really like bits of peanuts in there." That was clear enough for me, and I was just about to write that down on my shopping list and move on with my day when he continued, thoughtfully, "It reminds me too much of...a colloid....with solid pieces suspended in a liquid...and that just seems...wrong." Siiiiiighhhh. All I can say is: thank goodness he had a Science test a few days ago that included this very vocabulary word, and I had helped him study. So at least I had an inkling of what he was talking about...even if he is one big honkin' nerdling.

And there you have it...Riley's stream-of-consciousness can be a Class 5 Rapids experience at times...but you can't deny it's also usually a fun trip...