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.