Cause and effect. Simple enough concept, right? Not so for everyone. Michael proved yet again that he has trouble with it.
Now, is it regular "I'm a teenager and I'll do what I want" issue, or is it a more serious lack of comprehension because of brain mis-wiring? I dunno. Hopefully just a teen thing.
Colton came over last night and spent the night. Before dark, he and Michael went outside to play soccer. Michael was wearing slip-on sports sandals and socks. I've told him and told him to NOT play sports wearing those sandals. Did he listen? Nope.
I went to Publix to pick up a few things.
Came home and he had a big raw scrape on his knee. "I TOLD you that you need to wear tennis shoes, right?" He nodded. He got a horrible wound not that long ago from playing basketball while wearing sandals.
How many bleeding wounds will it take before comprehension sets in?!
Wow, just as I typed that I realized it's a metaphor for life. How often do we have to get wounded before we change our ways?
Talk amongst yourselves.
My back is so much better that I can now sit in an easy chair and read a book, without fear of a backache later. Thanks be to God. I don't slump, though. I sit up straight.
The less back issues I have, the more I can let Michael drive. The passenger seat is a bit uncomfortable for me when my back is hurting. Michael drove me around to do errands yesterday and was very competent. We even went outside our immediate area, over to Decatur, and he did fine.
If anything, he is almost too cautious a driver.
Then again, his mind is always working on something. In the car yesterday, out of the blue, he said "How would you feel if I became a NASCAR driver? Do you think I could do it?"
I remained calm, after glancing at the speedometer.
"You mean, do I think you could drive around a track really fast? Sure. If you have a good car."
Of course, I was thinking to myself, I would have to be heavily sedated to stand the stress of watching my baby do that. I have a cousin who is a big racing fan. She could go and cheer him on.
Fortunately, I think he was just wanting to get a reaction out of me.
"How do you win that sport?" he asked.
"I have no idea, Dude. No idea," I replied. My uncle Bobby Hasty, a huge racing fan, passed away a few years ago. He could have explained it.Here's another thought...
I made potato pancakes for Michael for breakfast yesterday. I often do that, with leftover mashed potatoes. He refused to put sour cream on his pancakes, which surprised me. He loves sour cream.
I pointed that out.He shrugged.
He went in the dining room and got a Rice Krispy bar, and proceed to slather it with sour cream before eating it.Then he put sour cream on a Honey Bun.
"Tastes like yogurt!" he said, grinning.
"How very Russian of you," I said, shaking my head.