A Kitchen Conversation

Today, me 'n the family explored archaeological ruins & national forests, met a wacky forest ranger, soiled a Spanish mission with our heathenism, and photgraphed cows. It was my intention to blog about that, but it involves uploading photos, opening accounts, and url's. To be quite frank, that is far more than I am willing to commit to right now. Instead, I would like to share a conversation that I had with Dot last night.

the scene:
Eric told Dot that she would have to help me prepare the picnic lunch for Sunday's adventure. She was pissed, because she preferred to play Nintendo and listen to Ween. She huffed into the kitchen, pissy and unwilling to help...

me:Hey! What's your problem?

dot: I don't want to this, and daddy is making me. What do I have to do?

me:You need to dice the bellpepper and onion.

dot:Oh god, I knew you were going to make me do that.

me:What is wrong with dicing peppers and onions?

dot:It's the worst thing I can think of.

me: There are worse things, like catching your face on fire. That would be horrible. Then they would have to take skin off your ass and put it on your face. You'd be an assface. Now cut the vegetables.

dot:(laughing) You are crazy.

....after several minutes of working...

me:Okay, you need to cut more onion.You also need to dice the pepper. You just cut it into strips.

dot: You didn't tell me I had to cut it into smaller pieces.

me: Yes I did. Remember when I told you to dice them, and then you started whining?

dot: Oh, yeah.Can I please do something else? I hate this.

me: Fine, peel these eggs. Ya know, I can't wait until I'm old and you have to take care of me. I'm gonna crap my pants on purpose, and you'll have to clean it up. You'll whine then.

dot:Uh-uh. I'm gonna put you in a home when you're 50.

me: You will not! I'm going to write it into my will that you won't receive my fortune if I'm put into a home.

dot: That won't work. Who'll get your money?

me:I'll leave it to the cats.

dot: Then I'll kill the cats, and then I'll get the money.

me: No you won't. If the cats die, the remainder of my estate will go to the SPCA. You can't put me in a home.

As we finished packing the picnic and cleaned the mess, we bantered about hypothetical situations and our lives. Her mood was much improved. She loves illogical arguments, despite the fact that I always win. I'm sure she'll be winning soon enough.