True story after I begged for a little piece of mundane info on teen talk from one of my kids. I probably deserved this…
The cafeteria is crowded. Students cluster around their respective cliques and a swell of conversation vibrates through the cafeteria, a mumbo jumbo of slewed comments that makes little sense except probably to the receiver, though even that is questionable.
I make my way towards a couple of friends off to the side, sitting in a small booth.
“Hey,” I say and slide next to Tamara, a girl my age who smiles at me.
“What’s up?” she says, lifting her chin to Max sitting across from her. I drop my lunch on the table: the same pizza imitation they always serve. Max turns a pale green, eyeing the pizza.
“What’s up with you?” I ask Max.
“He doesn’t feel like eating,” Tamara answers for him.
He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Afternoon shitter,” he says and shrugs.
“Yeah, I’m a morning shitter. Can’t do breakfast,” I say, taking a bite out of my pizza.
“Sucks to be you,” Tamara chimes in. “I’m an evening shitter, so I’m good.”
I crack up every time I think of this. What mundane truth comes to your mind? Like to share?