Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. Valedictorian. Educator. D. D. S.

Thank the Gummi Mary, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is available to tell The Pony and Farmer H to breathe in, breathe out. They cannot make a decision. Even if it is whether to inhale to continue living, or do nothing and face not living. So mentally taxing, those decisions. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom makes more decisions before 5:00 a.m. than Farmer H and The Pony many in a year. A decade.

Graduation pictures were this morning. Not the official ones. They’re done. Today was the cap and gown photo. So The Pony gave me the form yesterday. I asked him several times which pose he wanted, just the mortar-board head shot, or the waist shot showing him clutching that diploma, and which background, and which extras.

“Graduation pictures? I don’t even want them, really.”

“Is everyone else getting them taken?”

“I think so.”

“Then you are, too. What kind of shirt do you have to wear? Collared, with a tie?”

“I don’t know. I was not told anything about this.”

“What is everyone else wearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re going to wear a shirt and tie.”

“Why? I’ll just wear one of my regular shirts.”

“Look at the picture packet! It shows how they will look, and the guy in it has on a shirt and tie. It will show at the neck of your graduation gown.”

“My other shirts have a collar.”

“A floppy knit collar. None of which are white. How is that going to look with a purple robe?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t care. I don’t want the pictures anyway.”

“The pictures are not for you!”

“Okay. If you want some. I’ll wear a shirt but not a tie.”

“Why don’t you just wear the robe by itself, then? Nothing under it. I’m done. I don’t care if you have pictures taken or not. I’m tired of doing everything.”

“Dad might want pictures. I’ll wear a clip-on. But not a real tie!”

“Pick out a packet.”

“Let Dad.”

You can imagine how that went.

“I don’t care. It don’t matter to me.”

“He doesn’t care to have it taken! You don’t care which one! I’ll get my phone and take a picture right now, and that’s it! Fine! We’ll get this.”

“I want the one showing the diploma in his hand.”

“Then why didn’t you say so? FINE! Make a decision for once!”

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom hopes she was a dentist in her past life. At least she would have been PAID for pulling teeth.