After dinner I was minding my own business, serving up a little ice cream and looking forward to the imminent enjoyment thereof, when George leaned on the counter and began scrutinizing my scooping technique. I could feel more than see the critical expression on his face.
“Maybe I should show you the proper way to do that.”
I refused to look at him and jammed the scoop in once again, exaggerating the improperness of my method. Then, without thinking, I said, “You’re not the boss of me.”
It’s not every day one hears oneself use a standard kindergarten defense in the context of adult conversation. It left me with the same sensation I feel after a good laugh. Probably because after I said it I cracked up.
I think I just found my new motto.