"Mom, we didn't have this for a while. Can we get some?" Trooper held up a can of spinach to show me as I slowly pushed the cart down the isle.
I closed my eyes and briefly shook my head, trying to orient myself to the strange reality in which I regularly find myself. I should expect things like this, I thought. But I still don't. "Sure," I said out loud in my chipper mom voice. What didn't surprise me was when later, as we were heating it on the stove, he poured literally half a canister of garlic powder on it. I did my best to salvage it, but even still there was a LOT of garlic left in that stuff. I have a limit to how much garlic I can consume at once, and unfortunately I threw most of the spinach away. Yesterday we made it again, and I banned the boy from the stove area. Don't mess with my spinach.
Trooper's prayer the same night: "Dear God, thank you that I got my blood drawn."
What? I thought. I seriously live in the twilight zone.
"Thank you that you didn't make me afraid. That I was brave. And thank you that we went to Walmart."