I woke up this morning with a cat on my head and a kid on my tummy. The cat was trying to claw its way out of the vice-like grip of the kid.When the cat realized there was a living being under her claws she was morbidly embarrassed. The kid found that to be just way too funny. I swear, the cat had a “oops, I’m really REALLY sorry about that look on her face” as I pried her claw out of my forehead. But she soon cheered up as I applied a similar vice-like hold to the kid.
“Shkmissy” I mumbled through the bleary morning fog that had barely been abated by blood and tears from four tiny claws finding their way into my tender flesh.
“What!?” giggled the kid as I proceeded to squish the love out of my little missy.
“Shkmissy. Squish the missy,” I said, demonstrating the technique.
“I want to pet the fishies, mommy,” she replied between giggles. “Can I go pet the fishies?”
“Anything to get out of a good shkmiss, eh Nova?” I said to her as she wiggled off the bed.
“Just watch out for Doree.” I told her as she sauntered off down the hall. “She’ll probably take your finger off. She’s a supercannabalistic fish, you know.”
It had the desired effect. Now everyone is wandering around my house singing songs from Mary Poppins. Bwa ha ha ha! Phase one of my evil plan is working.
Now if I could only beat the bathroom scale into submission, all the important stuff in my life would be in order.
Well, okay, and fix our computers, assemble the desks, clean the kids’ rooms so Ami can move in, help Ami with her homework, save the Falun Gong in the Chinese organ farm, end world hunger, earn the respect of peers, serve whirled peas for dinner, and maybe do something about my self-esteem/body-image while I’m at it.
Yeah, then everything would be cool. Wouldn’t it? I wish.
Les Becker, at
Sun Mar 19, 06:04:00 p.m.