Sons. Their thoughts are not my thoughts, and their ways are not my ways.
I have never, not even once, opened a two-liter of soda without my sons grabbing the lid and flicking it relentlessly back and forth across the room to be discovered at some later time when I clean under the couch or on top of the kitchen cupboards.
Neither one of them has worn a winter coat since they were in 4th and 5th grade. They would rather feel cold than bulky.
They absolutely do not care even a tiny bit if their socks match. Spoiler alert – they don’t.
And they do this thing with lighters. You know, just regular lighters – the kind you may use to light a cigarette. I’m not sure of the exact process, but they take it apart and change it and then reassemble it, which is deceiving because it looks normal at that point. Then I, alone in my newly cleaned and peaceful house, pick up the seemingly innocuous lighter in an attempt to light a candle. But, that is not what happens. What happens is the lighter turns into a blow torch with flames leaping to shocking heights.
And, they don’t even MacGyver the lighter in an attempt to prank me. They just do it because it can be done. It never crosses their minds that such a contraption may shock a later user. Or burn someone’s hair as they attempt to light a candle.
And when the story is recounted to them, they both get identical expressions on their faces that clearly say without the necessity of words, “Why in the world wouldn’t you expect the lighter to produce giant flames?”