Pushmi-pullyu

My wife was lamenting the passing of summer last night. "Waitaminnit," I said, "isn't it my job to grieve for things that haven't even left the building yet?" As noted here many times before, I am the nihilist and my wife is the one who tends to "wrap things in white light." Just another example of what I have come to refer to as "the push-me pull-you nature of relationships."
For those of you unfamiliar with the two-headed llama first seen in Doctor Dolittle (alas, not in Eddie Murhpy's version), it is simply an animal with two heads and no behind. There is a constant challenge within this beast as to who gets to go forward and who needs to back up. It's a lot like dancing, trying to figure out who is going to lead. Men have traditionally had this role all to themselves - but as Faith Whittlesey said "Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but she did it backwards and in high heels."
So who does wear the tap shoes in my family? Well, we all do - and now that our son is walking and talking and solving engineering problems on his own we sometimes have three heads all pulling in different directions. Ideally, we would happily take turns and be happy in the notion that soon we would have the opportunity to be in charge once again and impress our will onto the rest. Sadly, we forget our manners and we find ourselves periodically in the power vacuum that exists in all relationships on a Friday night: "Whaddyouwannado?" "Idunno, whaddayouwannado?" Now we're looking for the other side of the car - we don't want to drive anymore - we want to be passengers. Except for the eight year old - his life's mission is clear: own all the Legos. We must go to Toys 'R' Us. So once again, I guess it's important to be careful what you wish for, since you just might have to pay for it later.