Zeeba

"Wow ur parenting skills r well below average."

My middle son was texting me.

"Look at this," I told the Lovely Bride.

"So?"

"It's disrespectful."

"Is it inaccurate?" she asked.

"That's not the point," I said. I began singing Aretha Franklin's "Respect."

"Are you telling me you've never seriously considered divorce?" my oldest son asked the Lovely Bride.

"Of course not," I answered for her.

"Mom?" he said.

Her faraway look spoke volumes.

"Fine," I muttered. Turning to my phone, I texted the middle son, "I keel u zeeba."

"What did you send him?" asked the Lovely Bride, awaking from her reverie.

I showed her.

"That's good parenting?"

"It's funny."

"Threatening to kill your son is funny?"

"It sounds worse when you say it like that."

"I'm just repeating what you told him."

"It's all about context."

"In what context is it acceptable to threaten your children?"

"Have you spent time with them recently?" I asked.

"You'd both be happier if my brothers were dead," the oldest helpfully offered. "You could afford a nicer house."

"There you go," I said.

The Lovely Bride got that faraway look again.

"I love them so much," I said halfheartedly. My phone buzzed, a new text message.

"I keel u too," it said.

"Ditto, buddy," I typed.