In the car, returning from breakfast. Ian has yet to find a gift for Mommy. He and I are going, shopping, that afternoon.
He doesn’t want to.
‘An electric can-opener and thermal socks,’ instructs his mother. ‘That’s what I want.’ Shopping with Daddy will be painful enough without thermal socks.
‘Oh,’ rescues Grammie, ‘you can have my can-opener. I never use it.’
Silence, while he churns. ‘Mommy, what kind of socks do you want’ he asks, setting us up, building his case.
‘Thermal.’ Wait for it.
‘Grammie, do you have any thermal socks?’