My Big Little Guy Is Somewhat Frustrating

 Hey! Have you heard? Farmer H is completely retired now, and he's home A LOT!

Taking care of my aged toddler, the not-so-wee Farmer H, is sometimes frustrating. There's a reason why old people don't have babies. Your patience is all used up.

Talking to Farmer H is like explaining things to a toddler. They kind of hear WAH WAH WAH like Charlie Brown listening to his teacher. Or hear a bunch of lakelrkj lksodi ljlkjl; aerddaa THEN ONE WORD THEY RECOGNIZE sadkjhoj wererou slkj wererl, like a dog tilting its head at you then becoming excited when he hears TREAT or RIDE.

Sometimes it's like trying to explain English idioms to an immigrant who doesn't have time to go to ESL classes due to working three jobs to survive.

Tuesday evening, for instance, I was making some garlic toast to go with a pot of vegetable beef soup. Pretty simple, that garlic toast. I just buy it at Save A Lot in the freezer section, and pop it into the oven for five or six minutes. Turning once. Oh, I can make a mean garlic cheese bread, but it doesn't go with the soup as well as the frozen stuff.

Anyhoo...I leave the bread in the oven an extra minute or two. I like the edges to get crusty. The Pony did not, he liked the whole slice soft, so when he was here, I had to eat it his way, or put mine back in for extra time. News flash: The Pony doesn't live here any more. When I called Farmer H to the kitchen to dish up his towering bowl of vegetable beef soup, I told him

"You're getting it with crust, because that's how I like it."

"You want me to cut off the crusts?"

"No...do you not want your crust?"

"I want it, but I thought you said you wanted it."

"No. I like it that way. The Pony didn't. I didn't warm it that long for him."

 "So I can eat my crust?"

"Yes, you can eat your crust."

"Are you having some?"

"Um. Yes. There are three pieces. You said you wanted two. So I'm having one."

"Oh. Okay. Because I noticed there was three."

Then Farmer H moved to the plate where I'd sliced 12 pieces of Oberle cheese to go along with the soup. You might not have heard of Oberle cheese, it being a local product around Hillmomba. It's a long tube-shaped piece of garlic cheese. When you slice it, you have pieces about the size of a 50-cent coin, a quarter-to-half-inch thick. Farmer H had said he wanted "three or four" pieces of cheese."

"So...I'll just take this...wait. Did you want some cheese?"

"Surely you weren't going to pick up that whole plate and take it! That's half the roll! Twelve pieces of cheese!"

"No, no. What did I say I was having? I'll just take four."

"Good. Because I'm having some, and I already set out a container for the rest."

Really. You'd think Farmer H was practicing to go on the competitive eating circuit. I couldn't even look when he piled up his towering bowl of soup.