Every morning, Genius stops by my classroom to grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge. This behavior is in its fourth year. Ingrained. Extinction at this point would most likely be impossible.
Rats will continue a behavior that is rewarded only one-tenth of the time. Okay, I made that up to sound scientific. But somewhere, there is a statistic like that. I know, because I learned it in a psychology class during my first year of junior college. That's when we weren't discussing salivating dogs, and kids kicking the crap out of Bobo dolls. Or finding out the best way to respond to a liar who says something like, "My nine-month-old son just spoke his first words yesterday. He said, 'May I have a cookie, please?'" The correct response is: "Imagine that!" See how it works? You don't call them out for being a liar, and you don't pretend to believe their claims. "Imagine that." A companion phrase for the "breathtaking" ugly baby.
Now where was I...Oh, yes. Rats! I mean Genius. He came in yesterday and flung open my mini fridge. Let's just say that he met the fate of Old Mother Hubbard's mutt. "There's no water!"
"There's water. In the package under the table."
"It's not cold!"
"No. That's why we have the mini fridge." Genius stalked towards the door. "And you think, perhaps, that the next time you look, it will be full of cold water? Just like that?" He kept going. I swear. He's like me, watching An Officer and a Gentleman for the tenth time, still holding out hope that Sid will be okay. That Zach and Paula will open the door of his motel room at The Tides, and find him laid back on top of the bedspread in his skivvies, watching TV and swigging from his fifth of whiskey, waiting for that diamond engagement ring to pass through his digestive system.
This morning when I returned to my room after parking lot duty, the mini fridge was stocked with water. I think that sometime between yesterday afternoon and first bell this morning, Genius found Sid swinging from the shower head. A dose of reality is not always a bad thing.
Now I have to watch the movie again.
ReplyDeleteMaybe the point is morbid, but it's still a good one...I think.
ReplyDeleteYou just shoved your baby bird out of the nest without so much as a "Good luck." Expecting him to stock your mini fridge? Not anticipating his every need so that he can just breeze through his day? Failing to make sure he felt like Egyptian royalty?
ReplyDeleteFor shame. I think he needs to call DFS and report you...
He'll eat warm, day-old honey mustard but not drink warm water? Even if it's tastefully served in a steer hoof-print? (I REALLY liked that poem btw.) Congrats on getting your fridge stocked, even if it took a dose of reality.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking the same thing as Leenie. Maybe you should have offered him salty potato chips, like barkeeps who keep the salted peanuts freely flowing so the beer will, too.
ReplyDeletejoeh,
ReplyDeleteWell, you just missed it Sunday on TCM. Check your programming guide. Unless you're one of those Net-Flicking people who watch movies all willy-nilly when the urge strikes.
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Stephen,
It's a dose of reality. No matter how much you try to see the light in the pot at the end of the rainbow tunnel, some scenarios are never gonna change.
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Sioux,
I hope my sister has never told him the story of that time she was in high school and got hit in the eye with a tennis ball, and had to accompany Mom to the laundromat because the washer broke down, and when asked why she had a black eye, replied, "Child abuse."
If Mama is falsely accused of abuse, there's gonna be some abuse.
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Leenie,
This morning I caught him pouring a tiny squeeze bottle of red KOOL-AID into his cold bottle of water. Thank goodness it wasn't three-day-old partially-digested honey mustard.
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Linda,
Better yet, some Buffalo chips. The spicy potato chips, of course. Not the actual buffalo chips. There's probably some kind of law on the books about that. To protect the buffalo chips.