Generational Chill

D: “Hi mommy! I had a great day! I had two cupcakes, we made lavender lemonade and went foraging and grandma showed me how to weave daisy bracelets! Did you know she says I can smoke pot as soon as I turn 21 in the state of Illinois?”

M: “What?”

G: “Now, dear, what did we talk about?”

D: “Oh! But she says homemade edibles are easier on your lungs and I should always grow my own!”

G: “And?”

D: “And if the fuzz ever comes poking, slip them an eighth of your stems and lows and tell them there’s more where that came from if they forget they were here, but plain clothes next time, and it helps if you do a little hair flip and undo an extra button. She says ‘our bloodline was gifted physically’ and you’ll tell me what that means.”

G: “And?”

D: “And if you get popped, pretty-cry and talk about how sorry you are and how you’ll do better until the judge lets you off with a stern warning!”

G: “That’s my girl.”

M: “Mother!!!”

G: “Oh, pumpkin. I’ve seen you drink wine in front of her. Which one is more toxic? Now don’t give me that look. I know what’s in your special gummies. I took you to the head shop and helped you pick them out!”

M: “THEY’RE CALLED DISPENSARIES NOW, MOM! AND WHY DO YOU THINK I NEED THEM?”

G: “This is why I’m always telling you to grow your own! Whatever you’re dosing on is probably too sativa-forward!”

M: “I’m not dosing. I. HAVE. TO. DRIVE! I have PTA at 6!”

G: “This isn’t the 80s, pumpkin. You can microdose. It’s so much better for you than your benzodiazepines. Here, I’ve got some dab in the top cupboard here. It’s already decarbed. Put a pinprick under your tongue. I drive on it all the time!”

M: “I don’t like you exposing Megan to this. She’s nine, mom. She doesn’t need to learn about this stuff yet.”

G: “Oh hush. It’s not as if I served her the magic tea.”

M: “MOM!”

D: “I had tea! It was chamomile! Is chamomile magic?”

M: “I am testing her pee.”

G: “I keep extra strips and dixie cups in the bathroom. But you’re overreacting! The cupcakes are clean! I used the butter in the blue bin! (under breath) Oh sweet goddess Isis. I used the blue and not the yellow, didn’t I? I definitely did. I did. I’m pretty sure I did. (beat, then louder) Dianthus, sweetie, the cupcakes didn’t taste like a skunk, did they?”

flush sound

M: “Shut up, mom. She’s clean. Let’s go, Megan.”

D: “It’s Dianthus, Mommy. Bye, Grandma! Mom, what’s silly-sybin?”

G: “I told you there was nothing to worry about! Hey, don’t leave urine on my island! I cook on this! I’m gonna have to vinegar it now! Hey, what about that dab? You’re too wound up! It’s not healthy! CALL ME TO TELL ME YOU TOOK A GUMMY WHEN YOU GET HOME!”