He already knows this, but if he didn’t, I would confess to Aaron that I am constantly thinking of ways to get him to do my wishes without having to ask. Concerned friends and family might advise to ask directly, but when the wishes are endless (pick up socks, please wash dishes, change the diaper, chop some vegetables, get off Sax on the Web), other measures must be employed. In the old days, before procreation, the wishes were minimal and understandable, such as I wish for the lawn to be mowed or I wish to go drink beer and eat French fries and watch baseball at Miller’s Ale House. Now, the wishes are petty and powerful, which is why “we” had to die.
“We'”s death looks like this:
I am licking the yogurt off Clara’s cheek because I would rather ask Aaron to take the dogs out in the -20 degree weather than ask for a barely wet, slightly warm, 5″ x 5” square of paper towel. This would be a respectable exchange of wishes, if only I wasn’t rigorously opposed to taking the dogs out in the cold and Aaron was not always the one to punch through the snow with two squirmy labs and heave hot breath on the metal latches to loosen them. The desire for Aaron to do this task builds. To prod, I say, “Well, I guess we still need to take the dogs out” and continue licking. And later: “We should probably give Clara a bath now” and stop licking so as not to confuse the term “bath”.
This worked exactly twice before it became clear that “we” was an easier way to say “you.”
Sometimes I cannot hold a conversation because I am so preoccupied by the dirty dishes in the sink. Often, for the exhilaration of pressing “Mark Complete,” I type “Call Subaru” in my Outlook to-do list just as I pick up the phone to do exactly that. Luckily, I am still open to out-of-body experiences and myself tells myself that she is funny in the way people who flush the toilet with their feet are funny. But, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one destroys the meaning of language, especially pronouns, and gets away with it for too long.