“H’lo” I answered the phone in my usual lackadaisical manner. I already knew it would be my beautiful but scolding daughter.

“Mom, is that any way to answer a phone?  Why do you sound so …listless?” My daughter scolded. Listless? Okay…listless is much easier to spell than lackadaisical.

“I’m sorry, Dear but there just doesn’t seem to be anything worth answering the phone for anymore. Life is such a bore.” Self-survival instincts kicked in and I hastily added, “Except for your phone calls, Dear. They are the high point of my day.”

“Good save, Mother Dear.” My child murmured, then said in brisker tones. “What I called about is that I’m sick of people complaining to me that you have turned into a real drag…moping around from day to day….”

“Oh Really?” I interrupted explosively. “Well I’m sorry that my Boring life has infringed itself on yours. Why don’t you try to mope a mile in my moccasins for while? Maybe you would be more understanding. Did it ever occur to you that you could do a little something to make my life more interesting?  Well, did it, Kid? You are the most….”

“I do understand, Mother and that is why I arranged a blind date for you.”

“…Darling sweet child a mother could have.” I said with tears of gratitude running down my face.  “Who is it with? When do I get to go out with him? It is a real guy, right?”

A vivid memory of the last time my beautiful but evil child had arranged for me to have a “companion” made me anxious. After dressing up to the nines for the great meeting, I had discovered my “companion” was a hamster she was trying to palm off on me… Call me suspicious, but that action had done much to kill trust between us. However the sweet child quickly reassured me.

“Of course he is a real guy. His name is BillyBob McAbee and he is the father of a friend of mine. I figure the both of you are too old and dumpy to be able to have much fun and this will at least keep you busy enough so you won’t be on my back.”

“Of course, Dear. I’ll probably be too feeble to do more than shake hands.” I agreed eagerly. I have learned over the years that it is wiser to let my darling but spoilsport daughter believe that “over the hill” means no frisking in greener pastures.