An Investment in Frivolity

A singular day off in common, rare due to chronic excessive scheduling on all our parts, this family outing started as they typically do…with a fight. I couldn’t tell you what set this one off, but it would be safe to blame hormones. My son took the helm with his learners permit tucked away in one of the dozen or so pockets of his cargo pants. With a quick jerk he adjusted the drivers seat of my economy car as far back as it would go, garnering a howl from my oldest daughter who sat directly behind him. 

This lunch unfortunately is the extent of spring vacation for us. As I point out whenever I hear a complaint, I am doing the best I can, and we can fight at home for free. 

Upon our arrival at the restaurant, the hostess informed us that there was a fifteen minute wait. This proclamation was met with a classic display of teen angst which had manifested itself in the form of my fifteen year old son. He is fully invested in this persona. “This is stupid. Why are we here? I’m going wait in the car.” An empty threat. 

To our surprise we were seated in just over five minutes. My son, in all his angst, took the seat across from me. Next to me sat my oldest daughter now fully recovered from the knee bashing incident. She is nineteen, and committed to her persona of “blonde.” Seated next to angst was my middle child, the eighteen year old “hipster.” She completed our table for four. 

I commented that it had been a long time since I had indulged in this type of frivolity, but since I was spending what for me was a substantial amount of money, I expected the fighting to stop. “You can be as miserable as you want, but keep it to yourself, I’m going to enjoy this meal.”  To which my son responded: “This restaurant is so pretentious.” I bit back: “I don’t want to hear one more negative comment.” He said “So I’m not allowed to talk?” I sighed, “I don’t think that’s what I said, but okay don’t talk.” The table was then blanketed in a long awkward silence.

I don’t know exactly what it was that broke the ice, but after what seemed like a very quiet week, our beverages and warm bread were served, and the mood lightened. Perhaps I should toss some bread and water at the inmates more often.

The conversation started when I asked my middle child to say something hipster, and she said she only listens to vinyl. Angst actually smiled. My oldest shared some work and school stories, and I realized that I not only love my children, but I like them. They are extremely entertaining. We had fun, and by the time my son drove us home all the tension of the morning had been forgotten.

I envision a future when everyone’s hormones have leveled off and our little dysfunctional foursome can enjoy each others company without the prelude…if we are fortunate enough to be in the same place at the same time again. Sometimes frivolity is an investment.  

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March 28, 2016, Daily Prompt: Frivolous~ <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/frivolous/”>Frivolous</a&gt;

6 thoughts on “An Investment in Frivolity

  1. My kids fight over such petty things. But which siblings don’t? I remember fighting over what my siblings said and then it’ll roll into a big ball of fight. And yes, please pass the rolls. Whew!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Kids, sigh, you write about them so well, you have me hooked, I have a long-distance relationship/financial drain (on me) and, well, you lighten my life, Lydia, as a caring Mum, there is no escape from the weekly statement : Mum, I have no money to eat ” ….sigh, at leas,t we, as a family are learning Thursday is the money transfer day…Starve if you blew the funds is my new motto !

    Liked by 1 person

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