As we were walking out of the gym today Evan says very matter-of-factly, "I need a Bowflex."
"Why do you feel you need a Bowflex?" I ask, wondering how he even knows what a Bowflex is. Then it occurs to me that he's seen the commercial (which I hate, by the way - I just cannot stand that jerky "everyman" spokesdude).
"Because, I have weak hands, " he replies holding his obviously feeble 7-year-old appendages in my face.
"Well," I counter, "a Bowflex isn't going to make your hands stronger and they aren't made for kids anyway."
Then he mutters the phrase that has, of late, become his personal motto, "That's just not fair."
"Why do you feel you need a Bowflex?" I ask, wondering how he even knows what a Bowflex is. Then it occurs to me that he's seen the commercial (which I hate, by the way - I just cannot stand that jerky "everyman" spokesdude).
"Because, I have weak hands, " he replies holding his obviously feeble 7-year-old appendages in my face.
"Well," I counter, "a Bowflex isn't going to make your hands stronger and they aren't made for kids anyway."
Then he mutters the phrase that has, of late, become his personal motto, "That's just not fair."
1 comment:
You know what that phrase has become my motto as well. I say it when it's eighty-five degrees in the house.
I said it yesterday when I locked my keys in the car at the library and we were stranded for an extra hour. I said it again when my daughter drank 3/4 of the strawberry smoothie I bought to cool down while we awaited rescue.
I said it last night when the heat, the pregnancy hormones, the lack of sleep, and the loneliness got the better of me and I whined that my husband (who is working two jobs) hasn't finished installing the ceiling fans yet.
Pregnant women are one of the most murdered demographics and I'm beginning to see why.
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