Three days ago, I came across a DS cartridge Ben had left behind. I excitedly showed it to Ruth only to watch her shrug her shoulders and wander back into the living room. Ruth's lack of enthusiasm coupled with my extreme fatigue equated to me completely forgetting about it.
...until this morning.
I awoke to the sounds of tiny electronic coins being snatched by a plumber with a mustache. I was surprised. Ruth generally only likes games that involve animals who wear clothes. This was a turning point in Ruth's DS gaming experience. A turning point, I might add, she seemed quite pleased with.
Ruth's only allowed to play her DS on Saturdays and in the car. Today, she got the best of both worlds and I heard it click open before I'd ever turned the key in the ignition. The radio was playing, the skies were dark, and the air conditioner was blowing cold air on my feet. Then, somewhere along Highway 98, I was suddenly thrust from my thoughts as Ruth (in her trademark sing songy voice) said to herself, "I don't even know what the hell I'm doing!" and continued to click away at her game.
My brow wrinkled.
I took deep breaths.
Then I said, "Hey Ruth, did you just say 'I don't even know what the hell I'm doing?' "
(and how does one punctuate the quotation inside a quotation because I can't, for the life of me, remember)
The DS drops to her lap as she giggles and says, "Gosh Mom, sometimes I don't even know what I'm saying!"
-->Insert quick conversation about appropriate language useage for children here<--
We went about the rest of our day fairly uneventfully. We watched a movie together, bought groceries, read every greeting card in the store, and overtipped a waiter at one of our favorite restraunts.
But what she said this morning still lingers and I have to ask myself...
Do I even know what I'm doing?