It’s true. Sometimes I sound like my mother. In general, that’s not a bad thing. It’s just that sometimes the things I say don’t make a lot of sense.

I was “under the weather” this weekend. I mentioned that to my 6-year-old grandson, Owen, and he looked at me quizzically. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out what I meant. And that’s another odd saying right there; “wheels turning in his head.” I’m glad I didn’t say that out loud because Owen might have had nightmares, but on the other hand, he also might have thought he was a Super Hero and I’m sure he would have been fine with that.

At various times, my Mom told me to bite the bullet, not to beat around the bush, and to avoid getting the wrong end of the stick. I was asked if the cat had my tongue and if I could bury the hatchet. I was told I was a sight for sore eyes, that a little birdie told her that I wanted (fill-in-the-blank), and that a leopard can’t change his spots.

I always wondered why a bird in the hand is worth 2 in the bush, how a cat can have 9 lives, and which foot is my best foot, since I was advised to always put my best foot forward.

This weekend, Owen was showing me his muscles. After I snapped this picture with my phone, he wanted to look at it (to see how strong he is). After I commented on his big muscles, I said, offhandedly, “But I can see your bones; we need to put some meat on those ribs.”

Owen paused for a bit, then said in a sad voice, “Well, we don’t have meat very often.”

(Not true. Owen’s Dad says they have meat with every meal, but Owen doesn’t always like the meat that is served. Maybe he’s rethinking his choices now?)

Seriously. I need to watch what I say.