"The writing's on the wall," she said matter of factly.
No it wasn't, I looked everywhere and there was no writing anywhere.
"There's no writing on the wall," I said incredulously.
She laughed, "the writing's on the wall," she repeated.
Again I scanned the room, this time looking more closely, zero writing and I told her so.
"The writing's on the wall!" She smirked, this time louder.
I matched energy, "NO IT"S NOT!" I was getting pissed.
And this went back and forth for a bit until my mom called me to the front door where we left the houses (her sticking her tongue out at me from behind her mom) and hopped into our car, driving out of the long driveway.
"Was there writing on the wall in the house?" I wanted to know if my mom had seen any writing.
She wasn't sure what I was talking about, so I told her about the "writing on the wall" and she explained figures of speech...
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One of my biggest critiques in art school from various professors was that I took everything way too literally.
And now here we are... professionally painting visual puns.
Funny how that works out.
There's a lesson in there somewhere...