Life Support: A lesson on women and flowers
Life Support: A lesson on women and flowers: "
Life Support: A lesson on women and flowers
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
By Mark Patinkin
A flower bouquet was sitting on our kitchen island in a nice glass vase. It had been delivered earlier in the day. Next to it, there was an affectionate card from me to my wife.
My son Zach is 12. He walked into the room and checked out the bouquet. Then he read the note.
'What did Dad do now?' he asked.
I looked up from my newspaper.
'What do you mean, 'What did Dad do now?' '
'You must have done something.'
I took offense at this. 'Couldn't I have just sent your mother flowers to be nice?'
'You don't do that,' said Zach. He turned on his PSP -- PlayStation Portable -- and began playing a video game.
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'You just don't. You only buy flowers if you're apologizing for something.'
'I do?'
'Like something bad. Like forgetting an anniversary. Or her birthday. Or losing your temper like you did Sunday morning.'
'You think that's what these flowers are about?'
'Duh.'
He was right. I don't even remember what it was about. But as a married male, I do hope to one day learn that the cost of raising your voice is $65 at the florist.
'I'm not saying it's a bad thing,' said Zach.
'You're not?'
'No. Because when you give them flowers, women forget about being angry at you.'
'If you were angry, would flowers be enough for you?'
'Not even close.'
'What do you need?'
'Video games mostly.'
He was making very little eye-contact. His focus was on his PSP.
'So you think I'm in the doghouse,' I said.
'I don't think. I actually know. Because you never send flowers t"
Life Support: A lesson on women and flowers
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
By Mark Patinkin
A flower bouquet was sitting on our kitchen island in a nice glass vase. It had been delivered earlier in the day. Next to it, there was an affectionate card from me to my wife.
My son Zach is 12. He walked into the room and checked out the bouquet. Then he read the note.
'What did Dad do now?' he asked.
I looked up from my newspaper.
'What do you mean, 'What did Dad do now?' '
'You must have done something.'
I took offense at this. 'Couldn't I have just sent your mother flowers to be nice?'
'You don't do that,' said Zach. He turned on his PSP -- PlayStation Portable -- and began playing a video game.
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'You just don't. You only buy flowers if you're apologizing for something.'
'I do?'
'Like something bad. Like forgetting an anniversary. Or her birthday. Or losing your temper like you did Sunday morning.'
'You think that's what these flowers are about?'
'Duh.'
He was right. I don't even remember what it was about. But as a married male, I do hope to one day learn that the cost of raising your voice is $65 at the florist.
'I'm not saying it's a bad thing,' said Zach.
'You're not?'
'No. Because when you give them flowers, women forget about being angry at you.'
'If you were angry, would flowers be enough for you?'
'Not even close.'
'What do you need?'
'Video games mostly.'
He was making very little eye-contact. His focus was on his PSP.
'So you think I'm in the doghouse,' I said.
'I don't think. I actually know. Because you never send flowers t"
posted by MJ @ 7:17 AM
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