Ch 4 Thursday I hate it when my mom is right, which happens far more often than I would like to admit, but at least she is not obnoxious about it

Mom: You can make your oatmeal in the microwave, you know.

Me: I know.

Mom: It’s easier than on the stovetop.

Me (measuring oats, water and salt into the saucepan): I know. I like it this way.

Mom: Then you don’t have to worry about it boiling over and you don’t have to watch it.

Primo: She likes it this way because she likes it a little burnt on the bottom.

Mom: But it’s easier my way!

Me: I want to do it my way.

Mom leaves to take a shower. I ignore the pot and the oatmeal burns to the bottom, which is not a problem at my house because I have non-stick pans, but this one is plain steel or whatever that sticky surface is and the oatmeal is really stuck to it.

Primo: It’s going to be painful, cleaning that.

Me: Not as painful as the “I told you so” I’m going to get.

Primo: She says that to you? She doesn’t seem like that to me.

Me: No, of course not. It’s implied.