The mother of all arguments

“And you can stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“That face. You know the one. The disapproving face.”

“I only said ….”

“There’s no “only” about it. It’s not just what you said, it’s how you said it.”

“You mean in sentences with verbs and nouns? Would you rather we conversed in Morse code?”

“Now you’re being sarcastic. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’m trying to get you to see …”

“To see what? That there’s something wrong with my face? Or the way I speak?”

“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“No, I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about. First you tell me that there’s something wrong with my face. Now you’re saying I can’t speak without annoying you. Next you’ll be complaining about my mother.”

“Well, now you come to mention it … She’s never liked me.”

“What? She adores you. That thing she does, well she’s only being protective. All mothers do it.”

“My mother doesn’t.”

“Yes well your mother is … not exactly typical, is she?”

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

“I can’t win. First you say that there’s something wrong with my face. Then it’s the way I speak. Now you say I’m being cruel.”

“There’s another thing …”

“There usually is.”

“I can’t remember why we’re arguing.”

“Well, um, you said something about … um … no, I can’t remember either.”

“We probably ought to stop.”

“Probably.”

“I’m still officially annoyed with you.”

“I know.”