The Last Word

My sentiments exactly

I cannot be the only one…who despises that person who feels triumphant by getting in the last word during a discussion or an argument.  Actually, I am even less fond of the person who, while accusing you of having to have the last word, is in fact getting the last word.  I am sure many of my fellow hard working wives and mothers out there were under the impression that when we signed those legal documents, a marriage license or your child’s birth certificate, that you had entered adulthood, and that your future would be void of childish accusations, such as getting the “last word”.  But, alas, the argument ensues.

Although, I don’t feel this conversation needs an example, as I am sure the point has already hit home with many of you, I will elaborate as a purely selfish gesture of venting my woes. While making pancakes for Junior’s breakfast this past Sunday morning my hubby grumbled something to me as I was washing the dishes from the previous night.  Between his back being turned to me, the washing machine performing its slow drone, and the clanking of forks being washed I was completely unable to understand his musings.  I let my hubby know I couldn’t hear him and received the typical response: LOUD and GRUMPY. As I sighed at the perfect ridiculousness of how asking my hubby to repeat himself could cause such disdain in my direction, I said, “I just couldn’t hear you well, sorry.” To which Hubby pointed out, “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

How could such a normal mundane morning, breakfast making and dish washing, turn into something so ridiculous?  I know this miniature misunderstanding that turned into a disastrous morning cannot only be occurring in my house…right?