Again, Not Quite What I Meant

Flash was helping me unload the car yesterday after I returned home from another morning at school. I had brought back boxes of books that are too difficult for first graders, a small table I need to paint and take back to my classroom, a posterboard and a few small crates.

"What is this thing?" Flashed asked, pointing at a heavy item in a white case.

"Aunt Jules' sewing machine."

"What do you need it for?"

"The next time I'm procrastinating doing anything truly important, I thought I would sew a skirt for my overhead cart."

"I thought you had a sewing machine."

"I do, I have my mom's. But it doesn't work very well anymore. It's older than I am, Flash. Things that are older than me don't tend to work very well."

"Papa is older than you, is that why he is retired?" Flash said with a smirk.

Sigh. Teenagers.