When he tells me he’s going to do something, I almost always object.
Ack! No. Eep. Please.
I don’t want to do it.
Really, who would?!
But when he asks me why, the answer always surprises me.
I can tell him three thousand ways about why it won’t work, why it is wrong, and a better way to do it.
I argue about the method, but never about the fact.
The fact is that he is going to accomplish what he sets out to do.
That he lets me discuss the method? Whatever.
I screech when he’s going to write something on me. He asks why? Oh. Blue ink doesn’t go well with red rope. Okay. So he writes whatever he set out to write in a color that doesn’t squick me.
Huh.
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