"You know what I mean." He smiled and shook his head and then put a finger to his lip, as if pondering, "Hm," he said, "Well..." then he lost his joking face, putting his hand back on the steering wheel and acquiring an expression that told me he was really thinking about this. "I think I'd like to drive a garbage truck." I laughed and slapped his arm and he grinned widely, "What? Someone has to do it." I rolled my eyes, grinning and said, "Seriously, Tyler." He grinned at me, "Ok, Ok. I think I want to work with mentally disabled kids." I rose an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything. Yet. He shot me a grin, "What?"
"Seriously?" He shrugged, "Well, yea. I've always had a soft spot for kids with autism. Maybe I'll work with an organization. Maybe I'll be an aid at a school. Maybe I'll work in a loony bin." He shrugged and said, "You know, I just want to help people. And I feel like that's the way I could do it." He smiled at me, "You do, too, you know. Educating 'tomorrow's leaders' and all that." I laughed and looked back out of the front window. "Wow, Tyler," I said, "You just keep getting better and better."
"I'm pretty great, not gonna lie." I laughed and smacked his arm again, and he smiled and took the hand I had slapped him with in his own.
"So Angela wants to be college professor," my mom said as I walked back in the door after driving Angela and Jake home. "Yup," I replied, walking into the living room and cleaning up the remains of the mess we had made. My mom turned off the water- she was rinsing the dishes- "Well," she said, "You guys better not have too many kids." I stared at her. "Excuse me?" I exclaimed after a moment. She grinned, "You know, with you working in the nut house and her making a teacher's salary. Actually, how much do nut house workers make?" She scrunched up her nose, "Maybe scratch that. For all I know, nut house workers are upper-class income makers." I stared at her, "Ok, first of all, professors make more than elementary teachers. Not all that much, but enough. Second, I don't know if I'm gonna work at the nut house. I might work at a school or something-"
"Teacher's salary number two."
"-and third of all, why would you simply assume that Angela and I are going to have kids?" I blushed, "Or, um, I mean, get married?" My mom smiled at me and turned the sink back on. Then, over the sound of the water, she said, "You'll get married. And have kids. In that order. And you'll work in the nut house." I bit my lip, "You don't know any of those things." She shook her head and sighed as she turned the water off again, done with the dishes. She dried her hands on the dish towel and came out of the kitchen, smiling (almost sadly) at me, "Oh, Tyler, dear," she said, "You simply must give more credit to a mother's intuition." She smiled at me, "Trust me, dear. I know those things."
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