Language Lessons

For years, I have been communicating my needs to Corey very subtly at times and very obviously in others. Like sometimes, I talk a lot about cupcakes at breakfast and hope that he'll get some on the way home from work, though I don't actually SAY this out loud. I just mention the extreme preference for cupcakes above all other things. Subtle. Or when I'm sad and need a hug, I cry and tell him I need a hug. Obvious. I feel I'm being equally obvious when, after I go to the grocery store, I make little piles of things that need to go either upstairs or downstairs. Then, I put those piles near the appropriate staircase. Take paper towels. We store the paper towels in the basement. So when I buy those 92-roll packages, I kick them to the top of the basement steps.

The message? Next person to go down to the basement should take the paper towels along. I feel this is a rather obvious message. Corey disagrees and will climb over the paper towels or shampoo or tampon boxes or what have you. No matter how I arrange them on the stairs, he will march around or under or over these piles. When I see this, sometimes I get so angry that I also climb over the pile to make a point. This just typically results in both of us climbing around piles of toilet paper for a few days until I cave and put the shit away. It's maddening.

Today, our whole family went to Giant Eagle. It was our first actual family outing, because doctor visits do not count. Miles did a pretty great job, flirted with the cashiers, only cried at the very end. We were pretty joyous. When we got home, I put the groceries away while Corey changed a diaper. I set aside the ass-wipes (we call those moist Cottonelle towelettes "ass wipes" instead of "flushable moist wipes"...why polish the turd, so to speak?) and a package of disposable diapers (we use those for night time in hopes they will help M-Dub sleep a bit longer, to polish his turds, so to speak) and made a sort of barricade at the bottom step. The message? Next one upstairs should take along the ass wipes and the diapers.

I almost fell down and died when, a few hours later, I saw the diapers in M-Dub's closet. I actually did fall down and die when I saw the ass wipes put away in the bathroom. I am typing this from heaven, on a cloud of flushable moist wipes and perfumed disposable diapers. Why he waited until now, when he clearly had a baby in one arm and difficulty stooping to gather the diapers and ass wipes, I will not speculate. But he saw them in the way and knew what to do about it!

It only took six years of living together, but finally my Cookie Pie has learned to speak Katy.