Today many wedding-related items arrived in the mail. (Again with the wedding? Sheesh, could I shut up about the wedding already? No, apparently I cannot. But in about a week and a half I’ll stop, I promise.)
First I found Otto’s wedding ring flung to the side of my steps by my alert and caring FedEx delivery man. I was here at the house all day, so I can say with some certainty that he drove up, threw the package out of the truck, and drove away as quickly as possible. I’m sure his failure to ring the doorbell and HAND the package to me was out of concern for my well-being. He probably figured I was busy and didn’t want to disturb me.
Anyway, the ring is perfect and so I forgive my idiot FedEx man. (Now I just have to have it engraved and—assuming Otto shows up when he’s supposed to—we officially have all the wedding essentials.)
On the OTHER side of my steps I found Monkey and Chickadee’s Fancy New Wedding Shoes, which Chickadee had been asking about just yesterday. (“When are our shoes coming??” “Good question.”) When I brought the package inside and opened it up, of course they needed to try them on and admire them.
You know, all the fashionable little girls are wearing gold glitter sandals with their cargo pants and peasant blouses. And the most dapper young boys are pairing faded jeans and t-shirts with faux crocodile dress shoes. I’m sure of it. They pranced around the playroom asking me to tell them how good they looked.
[Monkey: I’m so handsome!
Chickade: I’m handsome, too!
Me: Wait. No. HE’s handsome. YOU’re pretty. Or you two could switch shoes. That’d be fun.]
The mail also brought a twee little pair of clip-on earrings I bought for Chickadee. I think I’ll save those to spring on her the day of the wedding. (I am the Meanest Mama In The World, you know, which is why she’s not allowed to get her ears pierced even though she will DIE FROM THE TRAGEDY what with EVERYONE ELSE’S MOM SAYING YES when I persist in my heartless refusal to let her poke holes in her head.) I’m trying to think of something that would be a good equivalent little something for Monkey, and I’m coming up empty.
[Me: I made our appointments for manicures today, Chickie.
Me: I’m really proud of how you’ve not been biting on your nails. You’re going to look beautiful.
Monkey: What are Grandpa and Otto and I gonna do when you go get your nails fixed?
Me: I haven’t decided yet, sweetie. We’re still figuring that out.
Chickadee: I know! They could all go get one ear pierced!
Me: Yes, I think Grandpa would LOVE that. Or! Maybe they could go golfing.
Monkey: Would you LET me get my ear pierced?
Me: No. But I would let you go to Hooters.
Me: Nevermind. Oh! Look! Something shiny!]
I think it’s safe to say that all three of us have the whole wedding thing on the brain.
While Chickadee showered tonight, I trimmed Monkey’s hair again. Just the front! Because he is growing it out! But I would like to be able to see his eyes, you know, so he allowed me to snip a little bit until I could see his face again. Chickadee finished her shower and Monkey hopped in for his. I guess she passed him and noticed I’d cut his hair.
Chickadee: So you trimmed Monkey’s hair.
Chickadee: For the wedding, right?
Me: Well… sure. I mean, he’s still going to look like a muppet died on his head, but at least this way we can see his eyes.
Chickadee: What are we going to do to MY hair?
Me: Oh. Hmmm. Well, what did you have in mind?
Chickadee: I want it curly.
Me: Okay. Oh! We could put it in little twists while it’s wet and I bet it’d be curly in the morning. Wanna try that?
Me: Okay, let’s try it tonight and see if it works.
Chickadee: What if it doesn’t work?
Me: Then we go to Plan B.
Chickadee: What’s Plan B?
Me: I’m not sure yet. Think positive!
She stood perfectly still while I twisted her hair into little knots and secured them with bobby pins. She watched my progress in the mirror and kept reaching up to touch the finished twists while I pushed her hand out of the way.
“Beware the alien girl from PLANET KNOBULA!” I finally declared, finished at last. She was very pleased with her new look.
Incidentally, don’t you love the trusting innocence of children? I have NO IDEA if this will make her hair suitably curly. I have curly hair that I’ve spent most of my life trying to make straight. I don’t know from making hair MORE CURLY. (Yet, telling her “oh, just wait for puberty, I bet your hair will get a lot more curly then!” seemed meaner than forcing her to sleep on a head covered with hair lumps and bobby pins.)
At tuck-in time Chickadee began insisting that I “KISS THE LUMPS!” I obliged with a kiss to the nearest knot (located just above her left temple), thinking this would placate her. But no. She wanted me to kiss EACH AND EVERY knob of hair. I kissed a few more (“Mmmm, wet! Mmmmmm, hairy!”) and that was still not enough. After some back and and forth I decided that I couldn’t reason with a child who was screaming “KISS! MY! LUMPS!!” So I bid her goodnight and moved on to Monkey’s room.
“I’m thirsty,” Monkey announced as soon as I walked in.
“Buddy, no drinking at bedtime. You’re fine.” It’s been a long time since Monkey wet the bed, but paranoia springs eternal when it comes to changing sheets at three in the morning.
“But, but, I’m SO THIRSTY. You should just get me a LITTLE water. In a dixie cup!” He had the perfect solution for me, you see. When I repeated that he would be okay and didn’t need any water, he began chanting “I want a dixie cup” louder and louder. Except, to illustrate the urgency of his dire thirst, he did so with his parched tongue hanging out of his mouth, so it sounded more like “I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
I tried not to laugh. Truly. I tried. I left his room, even. I stood at the head of the stairs, between my children’s rooms, while they traded declarations.
“KISS! MY! LUMPS!!”
“I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
“KISS! MY! LUMPS!!”
“I AHNNA DITHIE CUH!”
I finished laughing, went into the bathroom, put about half an ounce of water in a dixie cup for Monkey, and took it to him. Before I gave it to him I told him that I would only give it to him if he stopped yelling. He did and I handed him the cup. He gulped down the water, thanked me, and lay down. I went into Chickadee’s room and told her I would give her another kiss, but only if she stopped yelling. She did and I did.
And then I went downstairs and decided that from now on I’m going to say “kiss my lumps” much as Flo used to say “kiss my grits.”