I got word today that Mr. Snort has decided to leave me. Again. And the boys. Yes, he has chosen to go on another business trip. My new but not new but still kinda new season as a single parent will begin sometime later this week. To show my displeasure I am…well….I don’t know yet what I’m going to do, but trust me. It will be big. Oh yes. And game changing to boot.
Summertime is swimmingly along smashingly right now. The rainy season has arrived in the desert. Crawling out of the holes come the snakes and scorpions with lots of flash flooding. Glad are we too for the thunder and lightning to hear and see with ears and eyes wide open. Brilliant, loud claps of thunder abound in our ears as Mother Nature urinates her rain down upon us.
Footlong is enjoying his academic day camp. This session, as there are two, he is studying baking, puppetry, and participating in a class to ready youngsters for entry into the first grade. I am sure the teacher is relying heavily on him to support her weak syllabus by teaching some because he is so brilliant. Some disposable income was ours this past week, and Footlong asked for a new Bakugan. I love that lil’ rascal and his imagination, so I ran out and bought him a vintage TI-82 scientific calculator. Graphing sin and cos and tan right now is he! He has also taken it upon himself to learn the national anthem of Bhutan, and yester night he built an espresso machine out of an old clothes hamper, 3 diapers, a loofah, a gross of Lego bricks, a vegetable peeler, and 2 coffee filters.
6-inch continues to disappoint us regularly with his failures to invent things, speak in full sentences, and use the toilet. I keep telling him, “Son! My babe! You will be a year old at the end of the month! It is time to get your shit together and fly from my nest!” He looked at me and farted. Which then gave him the giggles. I don’t cuss, except for when I do, but if I did, which I will, this little asshat needs to get his shit together. I approached him today with a meal of herb crusted rack of lamb, roasted brussels sprouts, toasted orzo with garlic foam, and purple carrot puree, and that child had the fucking audacity to reach for a bottle of milk. “HELLO!?!? What about me?” I yelled at him. “I spent 4 hours making you lunch! I realize you only have 6 teeth, but you need to eat and not further soil your taste buds on milk!” He looked at me and giggled and said, “La la la!” Why me?
I have decided that since I am such an awesome wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, humanitarian, chef, marketing executive, movie director, Indy car driver, Native American shaman, and astronaut that I am going to teach some classes soon. I’m not sure what I’ll teach, but you really need to take the classes. Trust me. I’ll turn you from a magnificent person into a more magnificenterly person.
I’m off to imbibe a double vodka martini….er…..raw egg/seed/nut/lard smoothie. Yummers.
We’ll gab again in the near future!
This is a really shitty work of fiction. Footlong is an average child. 6-inch ia a cute, sweet, happy baby whom I love just as much as his big brother. I am mad that J is going out of town again. For fucks sake, I didn’t sign on for this shit.If you can read this then your eyesight is just fine.