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Randomly awesome

Lily had a bloody nose, and Jerod threw her Kleenex in the toilet. She sauntered into the family room an hour-or-so later and announced;"Daddy, I think I'm bleeding like Mommy does."

"What?" Jerod asked her -- shocked and appalled that his daughter speaks fluent Tampax.

"You know," Lily said rolling her eyes. "Mommy bleeds every once in awhile. Well -- I went to the bathroom, and there's blood in the toilet just like what happens to Mommy."


It's the random, out-of-left-field stuff that makes life bearable. Take the recently-divorced guy who's never said more than "hi" and "have a nice day" to his women co-workers. He joined the girls for lunch one day and commented, "I'm either an alien or a non-practicing homosexual -- any thoughts, ladies?"

I wish I could bottle those moments and store them for rainy, uninteresting days.

Surprises past puberty are sort of like genetic mutations; they're almost always bad -- cancer, infidelity, STDs, unemployment ... I live for that moment of unexpected, out-of-context hilarity -- at lunch with my mom and daughters, and Ashlyn -- who's language skills are still developing -- pointed at a clock on the wall and screamed at the top of her lungs, "C*CK! BIG C*CK! C*CK, Mama!"

I threw my hand over her mouth and shushed her trying desperately not to laugh, but funny is funny -- I could't help it. And Lily seeing my mom and me in stitches wanted in on the joke.

"That's right Ashlyn, it's a big c*ck," Lily said -- with a sort of amused and bewildered expression. "What is a c*ck, anyway?"

Mom told her that a c*ck is a rooster, which is technically correct -- the same way a bitch is a female dog, and an ass is a donkey. But I'm pretty sure that no one in elementary school calls a rooster a c*ck, or they don't mean rooster when they say it.

"It's a really bad word," I said. "It is a rooster, but it's mostly a really, really bad word, and you can't use it EVER."

"But Ashlyn said it a million times."

"She's not saying it on purpose," I said. "You know better now, because I told you it's a bad word."

"Bad word?" Ashlyn asked. "C*CK! C*CK! C*CK ... C*CK!"

"C-LLLLLLL-OCK," I corrected. "C-LLLLLLL-OCK."

"C*CK!"

Now we call them watches -- takes care of that "L" problem.

Comments

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. Sorry about the previous removed comment. It didn't come out right.

    Anyway, typing while tired never works.

    My three year old son says clock the same way. He also has trouble pronouncing fish. It sounds more like "b*tch, b*tch!" He started screaming it in a restaurant one night, and people started giving us nasty looks. Of course, it probably didn't help that my husband and I were laughing.

    ReplyDelete
  3. The good stuff indeed!! The stories that last a lifetime. Layer, when you are older they will tell them to you and everyone will still be laughing.

    ReplyDelete

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