My son and I debate who will get to eat it. I paid for it and walked down (after another long, shitty day) to get it. He called it in and settled for yet-another pizza dinner before rushing off to lacrosse. This piece is the only remainder.
At first I say, "I guess you can have it," like a good mom should. He grabs the piece of pizza and walks away from me, but then I remember that he's an adult. So, I quickly change my tune and yell, "Let's shoot for it."
This challenge, much like the dreaded Triple Dog Dare challenge, involves Rock, Paper, Scissors Shoot. I am reasonably adept at this game. I run into the living room where he is watching television (or playing video games - it varies from moment to moment now that college lacrosse season has started).
I challenge him: "Best two out of three."
Round #1, I throw scissors and he throws rock. I'm down one immediately. Round #2, we both throw rock. Round #3, I win by throwing scissors to his paper, so now it's all even. We're tied.
At this point, "rock" seems to be the heavy hitter. I have to think. If he has thrown rock twice and I've thrown scissors twice, I'm thinking that he will think I'm going for scissors again. I am figuring he will throw rock to crush my scissors.So, I shoot "paper."
I look down. He has thrown rock. I win. I WIN! I win the piece of pizza. When I look at the pizza slice though, I see that he has already taken a huge bite out of the pizza. He didn't even heat it up! He's a HEATHEN.
"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot," he announces and throws up his middle finger, tossing me The Bird.
Ah, well. I have only myself to blame. I taught him everything he knows.
