"One minute kids are asking for a ball and the next for a mobile phone. Kids grow up too fast and so do their requests!"
--Email pitch I just received
Henry: Mom, where's my ball?
Me: I think it's in the--
Henry: Wait! Wait a goddamn minute!
Me: Excuse me?
Henry: I need a fucking phone, is what!
Me: I really don't think that kind of language is--
Henry: Not just any phone, either. I need one of those smartphones so I can start texting!
Me: Who are you going to be--
Henry: No, SEXTING!
Me: Do you even know what--
Henry: On second thought, that seems awfully immature.
Me: Well, I'm glad you--
Henry: What I really need is a car.
Me: Would you please stop interr--
Henry: Nothing flashy. Something sensible, with good mileage. Plus room for the kids.
Me: Wait, what kids are you--
Henry: Goddamn it, Mom, sorry, I'm getting a call. Hold on. Sorry.
Me: That's not a phone. You're just holding your hand to your--
Henry [into his hand]: CHRIST, I forgot about that conference call. I'll be right in. I said I forgot! Don't put so much on my plate, if you don't want me to--okay. No, it's okay. I'll be right in.
Me: Where do you think you're--
Henry: Mom, I'm sorry, I have to run. Before I go, do you have a retirement plan anywhere around here?
Me: Again, if you'd just stop interrupt--
Henry: It's all right, never mind, I'll get one myself. If you have some extra Lipitor lying around, though, I'd take that.
Me: I don't think--
Henry: Kisses, Mom. Best to Dad. See you at the next whatever.
Me: Wait! I found your ball!