Act I.
Boy 1 (Home from D.C. for weekend): What’s that smell?
Me: I made carnitas in the slow cooker.
Boy 1: Awesome! (Helps himself)
Me: (Watching him wolf down meat) Don’t you want to put that into a tortilla?
Boy 1: Nah, I’m good.
Me: Are you sure?
Boy 1: Yeah.
Me: There’s all these fixings, though…
Boy 1: Mom, this is fine.
Next day.
Boy 1 (Headed back to D.C.) Can I take the leftover pork?
Mom: Sure. Do you want me to pack all of the tortillas and fixings?
Boy 1: Nah, I’m good.
Me: Are you sure?
Boy 1: What is your fixation with these tortillas? Why are you trying to make me eat them?
Me: (Thinking) I don’t know.
Act II.
Boy 2 (Drops in to say hello): Mom, can I borrow the Nutribullet?
Me: Sure (I burrow into a cabinet, pulling out metal pieces). Here’s all of the extra attachments.
Boy 2: Nah, Mom, this is fine.
Me: But you can use these for so many different things.
Boy 2: It’s seriously fine, I don’t need those.
Me: But this one will zest lemon. This one will pulverize Swiss chard. This one grinds espresso beans.
Boy 2: I don’t need all that.
Me: Are you sure?
Boy 2: Why are you trying to make me take these attachments?
Me: (Thinking) I don’t know.
Act III.
Boy 3 (Home for his last summer before his senior year in college): Mom, my phone doesn’t charge anymore, can I use the family upgrade to get a new phone for my birthday?
Me: Of course. Do you need a new phone case?
Boy 3: No, my old one is fine.
Me: I hear the yellow iPhone is cool, are you getting yellow?
Boy 3: No, I don’t want yellow.
Me: How about an Apple Watch for your birthday? It would only add 15 dollars a month to the phone bill.
Boy 3: Nah, I don’t want an Apple watch.
Me: Are you sure?
Boy 3: Why are you trying to get me to get all of this extra stuff?
Me: (Thinking) I don’t know.
I mean, I honestly don’t. Know, that is.
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