Bored on a Saturday Afternoon, a short story.

Last week, mom went to Trader Joe's and bought a tub of nonfat plain frozen yogurt. Plain as in not vanilla. It's very tart, and after taking a bite with the cake she'd baked that night, she went "Aaaagh!" or something. She thought it might be vanilla flavored.

It was a lucky accident. This stuff makes a great milkshake. My mom is the Smoothie Mistress. When she asks me if I want a shake, I say "Yes I do" because she doesn't make them too often, and I don't know how long it will be until the next one.

Today, she makes strawberry shakes. I drink it, it's awesome, then I go into the back bedroom where mom is watching some western on TV. I said "I drink your milkshake!" in the best nutty but dead serious voice that I can, and all she has to say is:

AND?

I say, "you know, from There Will Be Blood?" Mom rolls her eyes and gives me the hand wave.

Mom 1, Amy 0.

At least I didn't sing the milkshake song.