Napping
My beloved father and beloved Winston:
Yeah, But I’ll Still Never Give You Any Cash
I love public radio. Sometimes it’s a little boring, but for the most part - I love it. I especially love the Glenn Mitchell Show. This dude is darn charismatic, and he hosts a groovy call in talk show on a diverse range of topics. A lot of times the content has to do with an author who’s just published a new book on an esoteric subject, and sometimes he’ll have someone well known and super cool on the show, such as Umberto Eco or David Sedaris. (I missed both of these shows by the way. Insert big frowny face here.)
Anyhoo, today I listened to the segment he calls, “Anything You Ever Wanted to Know”, in which callers submit questions and offer answers. Almost no topic is off limits (I’m sure that you would never make it on the air if you wanted to ask why it is so tricky to swallow everything before your partner experiences the super sensitive after flush), so it’s a little like a crowd of adults asking questions like 3 year olds and answering them like 70 year olds. One person called in and asked about turkey vultures in Texas and why they seem to ignore road kill. Are they afraid of cars, or just more picky than commonly thought? This was pretty interesting to me since we saw a lot of vultures and a lot of carrion during the Big Bend Excursion - and oh, those vultures! they are just as creepy looking as you would think they would be if you happened to digest cartoons every Saturday morning and weekday afternoon and saw many a Warner Brothers depiction of said vultures.
Here’s what one caller answered: it’s because they have weak feet and this inhibits their ability to pick up larger chunks so they try to look for smaller ones that are easier to carry. Also, they repel their attackers by throwing up on them which - because of what they eat - generally accomplishes the task.
Cute
Now, that I’ve told that story about the mornings adventures with Monkey, maybe you’re asking: what about Bear? What about Winston?
Well? What about them? They’re really fucking cute, is what. Bear is in a new day care program which is costing loads and loads of money. Just to keep him up to his ears in activities and friends and swimming pools, we are all eating pb&j nightly - except when we splurge on a knock-off hamburger helper brand of cheeseburger macaroni.
Winston continues to amaze, charm and thrill. She wants to climb up and down the stairs to and from the apartment just like Bear and Monkey. She wants to wear sandals just like Monkey. She wants Monkey’s toys, drinks and food. Monkey wants Bear’s toys, drinks and food. They all want what the other gets. My envious little crowd of hellions! However, Winston is smart. She knows that we only understand about 5% of what she says and we let her get her way because we don’t seem to be comprehending her language, so she just shoves in and gets what she wants and everybody will simply pat her head and kiss her and tell her how unbelievably cute she is.
At night I become the cuddle magnet. They each fight for the space right by my side, and sometimes right on top of me. But Winston doesn’t fight. She climbs. Once she is in roughly the position she wants, she simply drops her weight on which ever sibling happens to be in the way then nestles into my arm. Works every time - especially since I’ll always say, “Winston doesn’t understand fairness yet. She thinks she’s supposed to be here, so give her room.” Then, the sibling will grumble a little, but not much because they’re used to it, and Winston will wrap my arm around her and we will all fall asleep.
Sneeze
Today, I’m busy. I have a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to mess around. So, when I felt the urge to pee, I chose to finish what I was working on and not go to the bathroom. Can you guess what happened?
Of course, you can. You, who might have had a few children yourself.
I sneezed. And my relief was complete. At my desk. In the middle of an unusually busy day.
So, I went down to my car where I had a pair of sweat pants and I changed in the driver’s seat - hoping that no one who owned the cars parked next to or near mine would choose that moment to go to lunch.
Now, my white cotton granny panties are sitting on the floorboard of the passenger’s side of the car and are no longer covering the vast expanse of my ass. Am I becoming more conservative because I feel more unhinged than naughty at not having that layer of feminine virtue between me and my black nylon trousers?
