I was just going to come tell you that if you’re in Atlanta, you can stop by the Beehive Co-op between 4:00 and 7:00 today to see me, Rita, and Kristen. I don’t know what we’re doing, really. Signing copies of Sleep Is for the Weak. Making out with each other. Dancing on the tables. Whatever.
(Of course, this all assumes that I don’t get lost driving into Atlanta. Hahahaha! I am funny!)
Anyway, first we sat down for our regular Saturday morning pancakes, and Monkey finished up first and asked if he could “go out on the porch and get some fresh air.” We said sure, have a good time.
He went out and checked on the caterpillar we’d found on the parsley yesterday (still there) and sat in one of our deck chairs for a minute and then came to the bay window facing the kitchen table and waved to his sister.
Chickadee was eating a banana. When she saw her brother, she turned to him and opened WIDE to show him her mouthful of half-masticated banana.
Except, Otto and I didn’t see that part. We only saw Monkey dart across the porch and lean over the railing to pretend to vomit over the side.
Because we are a KLASSY family (with a K, y’all) we all found this hilarious, and as Monkey turned back to behold us through the glass, laughing at his antics, a special barf-themed comedy routine was born. He proceeded to “throw up” over the rail a couple more times. As the laughter waned he switched to pretending to vomit into his hands… and rubbing the results in his hair… and then puking into his stretched-out waistband… and on his feet… and through some creative gymnastics, into his armpits and later directly onto his butt.
Butts are hysterical. Vomit is hysterical. Put ’em together and you have COMEDY GOLD!
When he started pantomiming spewing all over the window, I made him come inside. Because I am mean.
“Maybe a dog wouldn’t be so bad,” Otto mused, much to the children’s round-eyed delight. “I mean, instead of the kids,” he added. You have never seen two sadder little faces. (And they say that I’m the mean one….)
I settled for telling him that it was rather too late to turn exchange the children, because it seemed inappropriate to point out that dogs hardly ever PRETEND to vomit, plus they are prone to eating it. And that’s not nearly as funny.
See, now if you come to the Beehive, all you will be able to think of when you look at me is my son pretending to puke. You’re welcome!