The Gift of Snark

Mark this one as another milestone day for Ben. And, nope, he still can't tie shoes or mow the lawn, but the kid can (drum roll please)...

Recognize sarcasm!

And thank goodness...we've been laying it on pretty thick since long before he was born.

So, there we were, driving home from the gym, when I commented aloud about sharing the road with a particularly super duper excellent driver.

After a pause, Ben asked, "Mom, are you being funny?"

Hallelujah, he gets it!

Maybe it was inevitable. Our friend Jeremiah predicted during my pregnancy, "that's going to be one sarcastic kid." But he also labeled Wichita "the town that humor forgot," so I started to worry that the gift of dry humor was locked up with the Scarecrow's brain and Tin Man's heart.

Thankfully, I've found and befriended a little pocket of good great-humored people, who aren't openly put-off by my sarcasm. Hopefully they realize I come from a long line of established smart asses, then I married one, so it's beyond my control.

But I can't tell you how many times my (hilarious!) comments to strangers, waitstaff, passersby, etc. have been met by....

Crickets...

Eye rolls...

Blank stares...

Offense.

So, either I change my tone or embrace my new audience: Ben and Roman. And the latter seems more fitting, especially considering Roman's latest, the eye roll, which he was nice enough to let me capture:

Just remind me, when they're 15 and 16, that I once loved their gift of snark.