“Sweetie, you’re yelling. Can we just talk about it?”
“But- but I tried to talk to you about it! For like for twenty minutes! And you just wouldn’t listen!”
Oh boy. Here we go again. The things that come out of my mouth sometimes. Make you think I’m the star of some crappy late-night sitcom.
Out of the mouth of babes.
Oh what’s that? That refers to children, not adults? Well. All that comes out of the mouth of my babe is some spittle, dribbling down the side of her babe mouth.
I probably count as an adult baby anyway. I’d take the spittle over what I’ve got, at any rate.
“I- I tried to talk to you for twenty minutes!”
How did it sound so much more reasonable in my head? Out loud I remain insistent with outrage, but in my head, where it sounded reasonable, I am now sputtering with doubt. Twenty minutes, eh Veena? Is that all we’ve got now? Even twenty is an exaggeration. You didn’t really try for that long. Truly has it come to this? Almost twenty minutes of being rational and then you whip out the big guns and come out shooting?
“I’d like to talk now.”
“But you didn’t listen!”
Somehow it seemed more relevant in my head. Ah I think we can do better than twenty minutes. If I want more than twenty minutes of happy, I better try more than twenty minutes of sane.