Just Stop Talking!

Probably not the best way to handle this situation, but I’m really not equipped to deal with it any other way. Yelling, threats, and bribery – that was my go to plan.

It all has to do with these two, specifically the older one.

Al has started a nightly ritual with the girls where they read this little story that presents a problem. The girls then have to decide what’s the best way to handle it, and you read a bible verse that goes along with it. I know, you’re picturing me as a regular James Dobson curled up in my easy chair with a pipe…not so fast.

Al won’t even let me contribute much to these discussions as I like to have some real world application and explain that there’s always some gray areas that need further exploration. She’s not impressed.

This discussion tonight somehow moved from discipline to being a sore loser, to respecting your parents, to adoption, and specifically teen adoption, and ultimately with just how in the world did that teen mom get pregnant in the first place. What the @#$##!?

I saw it coming, and tried to cut it off. Al couldn’t see how the conversation was moving. That’s because she thinks in a linear fashion. She’s not like CB or myself. Random ideas flow in and out with no connection to the Non-ADD outsider. I saw it coming, but I wasn’t quick enough.

CB then point blank asks how did the girl get pregnant. CB thought that one day, the teen just woke up that way. I was fine to leave it at that, but Al jumps in, and GOD help us, starts to answer that question.

I instantly began reading aloud from Proverbs and singing some old hymns I remembered from childhood. It worked for a second. At least MK got somewhat interested.

CB is sensing my distress and seeing the sweat rolling off my head…she presses further. Women really do have that killer instinct.

I finally told her to “Shut Up. Please, just stop talking and don’t say another word. Go brush your teeth, and if you promise not to say another word, then we’ll talk about buying that horse you’ve always wanted.”

That’s it. I’m done. No more of this devotional led deep discussion – at least not with a house full of women. This was supposed to be a peaceful meditation on the Lord’s word and look where it got me.

From now on, after dinner is going to be a study in how to play blackjack or sink a three footer for par when there’s money on the line. I just can’t deal with the other.