Maybe we should enquire into an agent to review the options

I was standing in my kitchen talking to My Honey when I got home from work. He was making dinner so he could get to his best friend’s house early. He’s assisting in the making of a monster movie starring our godchild. True Story.

“Guess what,” he says.

“What?” I asked and eyed the leftover birthday cake. You’re not allowed to eat cake on a diet. It’s demoralizing how that cake just sits on the counter like that.

“The Bandit turned down a contract hit today.” My husband is very proud.

“What?” A normal mother would be concerned that her 10-year-old son would be offered a contract hit at all. I was more relieved that he’d turned it down. We’re like the Addams Family meets the Godfather over here. “Did he say, ‘No thank you. I’ve had enough detention this year, but it was nice you thought of me.’?”

“Exactly.” My Honey checked on the French fries.

Still the idea gave me pause. The child making the request is way bigger than our boy, who is still a pipsqueak. “Why would he ask the shorty to do the hit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t have a lot of faith in his own intimidation skills. And you know, The Bandit is so mean.”

This is true. My youngest child is mean. Mean. I don’t understand it. I’m such a pleasant person. “Well, I guess I’m proud of him for not getting in another fight.”

Still, I wonder. What was the offered price? Hell, there’s only a week and a half left of school. Did he even try to negotiate?