“Mom, what is this doing on my window seat?” KT asked with the complete disdain that only a teenager can wield. She was holding one of my old coffee mugs and wrinkling her nose at the cold coffee inside of it.
I told her that it was probably her grandmother’s. KT just shook her head and dumped the contents in the sink before putting it into the dishwasher. Grandma had spent the night with us and kept losing her coffee. Apparently her solution to this problem was to simply go make herself a new cup of coffee. We kept finding mugs all over the place, the bathroom, in the microwave…well, pretty much anywhere with a flat surface.
The next time Grandma came over, I laughingly told her about KT finding her mugs. I somehow forgot how wicked my mother was. (They say that people often block out traumatic childhood memories…) Without saying another word, Grandma got up and slowly ambled down the hallway towards KT’s room with her current mug. Then she came back and made herself another coffee. I idly watched her as she did this a couple more times, but didn’t really think anything of it.
This morning KT came into the kitchen in disgust. She said that her grandma must have really gone nuts because she had found three more cups in her room. Apparently, I don’t learn very quickly (or maybe I’m just a little bit wicked too!) because I told this to my mother when she came over this afternoon. Mom immediately jumped up and grabbed a cup from the kitchen and headed towards KT’s room. KT told her that she could come in, but she had to leave her cup outside the room.
Grandma just laughed at her, then pointed over towards the bookcase and asked KT if that was her mug tucked in among the books…