Bless his little heart.

Just after I started driving on my own, Trey and I had the following conversation:

Trey: "So, you need to learn to pump gas."

Me: "Ummm... I'm not really worried about that."

Trey: (with an incredulous stare) "Well, you should be! Sweetheart, you have to know how to pump gas! How do you think you're going to manage without knowing that?"

Me: "I've thought about it, and I figure that I'll just observe about three or four times and then I'll have it down pat."

Trey: "But if you're driving on your own, you won't have anybody to observe. You need to learn how to pump gas."

Me: "You obviously haven't heard my Brilliant Plan."

Trey: (very dubiously) "What brilliant plan?" (It wasn't capitalized when he said it... obviously he had no idea how very Brilliant of a Plan it was.)

Me: "It's quite simple. I drive up to the gas station, look around for a good ole' country boy who just thrives on helping ladies, put on my sweetest, naive-est, most helpless smile, and say, 'Oh, I forget how to do this - I don't suppose you could help me? Oh, you could? Wonderful!' and then I get my gas pumped without lifting a finger, and eventually I'll learn how to do it myself."

Trey: (No comment; swerves into the nearest gas station) "Like I said, you need to learn how to pump gas."


Soon after, he got me a taser. I think he was worried about what my Brilliant Plan for self-defense might be. It was rock-solid, I promise. But I'm pretty grateful for the taser, just the same.