I've been sitting here for 37 minutes waiting for inspiration to bite me in the butt. Nary a nibble has touched my ample flesh. So I must resort to the last thing on my mind before I rushed through the Mansion door to begin my unpaid job of cook, server, busgal, dishwasher, butler, fashion consultant, mediator, maid, gofer, whipping gal, and concierge.
The Pony misspoke. Mark your calendar. That happens about as often as the plant in the Dennis the Menace movie blooms. He is a wizard with words, my little Pony. Last week, he matter-of-factly mentioned that one of his Academic Teammates was sullen for the last half of practice. I told him that word is not at the top of the vocabulary list for most 7th-graders. He asked what I meant. "Well, you might as well let your nerd flag fly if you're going to go around talking like that."
On the way home this evening, I tried to call Gadabout H to discuss the dinner menu. Would it be burritos in whole-grain tortillas, or Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Mac (the vote of the #1 son), or leftover spaghetti made with Barilla Whole-Grain Pasta? (We try to keep Gadabout H in top form). Twice, he did not answer my call.
"I guess he's talking to one of his girlfriends."
"Maybe. But I think he's shoving his face."
Goodness. Wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes! I asked The Pony if he meant that Daddy H was probably stuffing his face. The Pony isn't sheepish often. But he was today. "Yeeessss. That's what I meant."
I believe that's the first time he misspoke since he was a baby strapped behind the driver's seat in a child carrier. For the longest time, we could not understand why, the minute we turned onto our gravel road, The Pony became agitated, and started babbling, "Toe mop! Toe mop! TOE MOP!" He would start squirming and try to slide out of the car seat. Sometimes, he would dissolve into tears. If I told #1 to unbuckle The Pony and hand him up to me, The Pony cooed with glee. The tears stopped instantly.
It took a month or more before #1 cracked the code. "Mom! I think he's saying, 'Come up! Come up!' "
And he was.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
My school made the news last night. No,we did not win an athletic competition. No, we do not have a student who has given up drugs and alcohol to work with the homeless. No, one of our teachers did not get an award from the President. We had a good fight in the cafeteria that ended with a freshman being taken to the hospital after being kicked in the head with a steel toe boot. I am so proud.
I haven't misspoke today (yet) but I did misread something. I totally thought you had written something about "nary a nipple" and your "ample body." Goodness gracious, and holy smokes, I was thrown for a loop for a minute there!
Possum,
I suppose congratulations of sorts are in order for making the news.
The last time we made the news was when the giant inflatable rat that looks like Rudy Giuliani was set up by union members protesting the hiring of a local contractor to build our new baseball field.
lyssa,
I may be a freak, but I am not yet a circus freak. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Post a Comment