Okay, let’s back up a little.
First of all, I’m given to understand that no one wants my dragon? Tough, y’all– you read me and he’s laid his egg in your brain… ha ha… just wait until that puppy hatches. No, I’m not adopting–that little offspring is all yours. Lucky you.
Anyway, I’ve got a couple of cute kid stories before the dragon screams at me again–I may save the best one for last.
Let’s start with Chicken.
I’ve often said that my family couldn’t live without meat– we were NOT meant to be vegans, and this story proves it. Chicken and I were grocery shopping and I bought the Easter ham–mostly because I was afraid they’d run out before I REALLY get a chance to shop. (We were only supposed to be there for milk, and 150 dolars later, we did have milk. And a ham. And a few other things including ice cream and Doritos.) So Chicken and I met up in the frozen food section and she saw the ham.
And hugged it.
“Oh, mama,” said my fourteen-year-old, “I like ham. Look at it. Isn’t it pretty? It’s so…so large. So firm. So tasty…”
“Should I leave you and the ham alone?” I asked, opening the frozen pizza door.
“Stop being a pervert!”
“I’m the one being a pervert? You’re the one fondling the damned ham in the middle of frozen foods!”
And that was when she tried to slug me and I tried to dodge and frozen pizzas jumped off the shelves to avoid the melee. It was the two stooges go to Safeway, and I told her that’s what she gets for public displays of affection for a smoked meat product. She says I taught her everything she knows. I told her she’s not allowed NEAR the bacon, and we’re leaving it at that.
And Ladybug–Ladybug is the reasons I’m having trouble checking your blogs. Whenever I try, she jumps on my back, shoves a puppet in my face and asks me to ‘talk to me’. Or, to talk to the doll she’s holding in her hand. So, folks, sorry–my brain has been shanghaid to play dolls. As I recall, when Chicken was little and tried to get me to do this, I made the hamster puppet eat the Barbie doll and that was the end of that. But that thought has haunted me with some mother guilt for over eleven years so I think I’ll skip that game with Ladybug. That and I don’t think ‘Hamster-eats-Barbie’ will even slow her down.
Big T watched ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ this weekend. He loved it– a lot. In fact, he thinks it was a lot like Cold Case. Yes. You can say it. I’m a totally sucky mother–it’s true.
And to prove that last thought? In public? In front of my family? Here it is, folks– the ULTIMATE Cave Troll story.
It happened at Ladybug’s party–we were all sitting at the big family picnic table-grandma, grandpa, sister, brother-in-law, cousins, etc., and the Cave Troll was looking for some attention. He started mugging–hollering things like “I’m a zombie, I’m eating an arm!” and “I’m gonna eat my little sister!” and we all rewarded him with hearty laughter.
He enjoyed that, and decided to run with it. Standing up on the picnic bench, he shouted, “Look at me, I’m a vampire!” And then, (and I don’t know where he got this word–this isn’t one he got from the family, it doesn’t get thrown around in EITHER of it’s meanings) he screamed, “I’m a vampire! I’m QUEER!”
Well, MY family just stared at him with our jaws open–my sister’s family is VERY conservative, to the extent that I haven’t even showed her my books. She knows I write them– my mom has told her a LITTLE about them, but she doesn’t know, the uhm, details. And then my brother-in-law (the youth pastor of, again, a VERY conservative church) said with a totally straight face, “Well, I understand that vampires are doing that these days.”
We laughed until we almost wet our pants–but the people who know what I write? Well, we didn’t look each other in the eye–not a little bit, not even at all.