As I pulled the cookies out of the oven, Aidan came in, curious.
"What are those?"
"They're cookies!"
"Well, they look like cookies, but they don't smell like cookies. It smells like rolls."
"Well, maybe that's because they have cinnamon." (Although I don't exactly put cinnamon in rolls; it was just the more savory smell, perhaps.)
"Oh, yeah. Smells good."
"Yeah, since they're oatmeal, and we like cinnamon with oatmeal, I thought that would taste yummy in the cookies, but it makes them...."
"Okay, okay, enough talk mom, can you tie my costume."
Obviously, he was not up for a long discussion about food and seasonings while there were more important matters to be addressed. I could just see it in his body language that it was taking all he had to keep control and feign interest for a few small moments. He was actually in the middle of a fight, which required his Batman Beyond costume to be tied (which he informed me HE was the one tying it, for pretend, but I needed to help because it was behind him).
I'm quite certain I recognized his "barely-listening" because I've felt it myself on occasion. For example, when you're at the check-out and you're sort of in a time-crunch, and the cashier feels the need to launch into a long story about her nieces and nephews, when, really, you'd just like her to punch in the numbers and get a move on. Or when you hesitantly opened the door, only to find a salesman on the other side, who, no matter your answer in the negative, continues to try to sell you some worthless junk. Like that. :)
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