The Pony Has Uncommon Sense For a Boy of His Age

Remember that halfway house I was going to open? Val's School for Boys Who Can't Dress Themselves and Don't Really Care About People? I think we have a new course in the works.

Val is not known for her talents around the kitchen. Sure, in the words of nurse/doctor Maura Tierney as Abby Wyczenski Lockhart Kovac on ER, "I'm technically proficient, despite certain attitude issues." I know enough not to burn the house down. I know (after several months) that one of my oven elements is burnt out. I know that a microwave door handle should not come off in my hand, and that two drawer knobs in place of a continually off-coming microwave door handle are preferable. It's only common sense, right?

The Pony has uncommon sense.

This evening, I asked for his assistance in making a meatloaf. He was pretty good about getting out my ingredients. He even tore apart the bread that I add to it, although it took him more time than putting together the entire rest of the meatloaf. Still, Val is not one to look a gift Pony in the mouth. He washed his hands. He was cheerful. He patted my shoulder and assure me it was with his hand, not a foot.

In the course of readying that meatloaf for the oven, and washing up the dishes on the counter, I asked The Pony to fill my bubba cup with ice from the door of Frig II, so I could get my ice water ready as soon as I was done rinsing the dishes with hot water. He did so.

Frig II likes to drive us crazy. Keep us on our toes. Just when we think everything is hunky dory in the ice department, he spits out errant cubes. More like errant half-moons. The cup runneth over more often than not. The original Frig did not do this. But you know how the younger generation is. I heard a cacophony of cubes clunking out of Frig II, but my back was to him and The Pony. All at once, an ice half-moon sailed over my shoulder and into my dishwater! It was as if that ice half-moon paused in mid-air and took a dive. That was one magic half-moon!

"Pony! I'm washing dishes!"

"So? It's still a sink."

"I'm using hot water for greasy dishes! The hamburger/egg bowl!"

"That ice cube is not going to change the temperature of your dishwater."

"Oh? And just how many greasy dishes have YOU washed?"

"Okay, okay. I won't throw any more ice cubes in your dishwater."

See? He's a good boy, my little Pony. So I went on washing the dishes, in HOT water, unsplashed by projectile ice half-moons, for another 10 minutes or so. The Pony retreated to his cheap couch in the basement to relax with his computer games. I let out my dishwater, and turned to get my cup of ice from the cutting block to fill with water.

THIS IS WHAT I SAW!

Uh huh. By declaring that he would not throw any more ice cubes in the sink, The Pony meant that he would not throw any ice cubes at all. Anywhere. Because he would simply leave them on the tray of Frig II.

You may notice that Frig II is suitably embarrassed, and trying to remain incognito by blurring his name. Can't be Val's cell-phone photography skills. She's almost as good at picture-taking as she is at cooking!

The Pony, on the other hand, could use a crash course in life skills.