Personal Statement

Personal Statement

Monday, January 23, 2012

I'm Officially Going to Hell - And I Have Company

The first grader's "read to Mom" assignment this evening was all about muffins.

And Mom's mind immediately went into the gutter - where the SNL "Delicious Dish" skit about Betty White's dusty muffin was playing on a continuous loop. 

"My muffin is yucky.  It is bumpy," said Katy.

[Snicker.]  You should go to the Health Center.  They have drugs for that.

AAAAAAAAND once the double entendre train left the station, there was no turning back.

"Don't be so picky," Jody said.  "I'll try it."

[Snicker, snicker.]  Ah.  The experimental one.  There's one in every bunch.

"Try my muffin," said Molly.  "It is fluffy and yummy."

My, my, my, Molly.  We sure are convinced that our . . . um, something . . . doesn't stink.  Let me guess:  you're a fan of landscaping?

Yup.  Irish moniker notwithstanding, pretty sure you're Brazilian.

[More snickering.]

For the record:  I did all of my snickering, and all of my double entendre-ing, in my head.  I kept a completely straight face for the entire duration of the six-page booklet.  And then, at the end, I said, "WOW, honey.  You did a really great job reading that.  You should go read it to Daddy."

"But I don't want to read it again.  It was kind of a stupid story, Mom."

"Oh, but I think that Daddy would enjoy the story about all of the different kinds of muffins, with all of the muffin-modifying adjectives.  You should at least let Daddy read the muffin story to himself."

The inappropriate person in my head is now rolling around inside my cranium, laughing her own personal head off.

You have to give the kid credit:  he KNEW that the muffin story wasn't all that and a bag of chips.  The look on his face pretty plainly said, "I don't know what you're so excited about.  And this bothers me."

But, dutiful child that he is, he brought the muffin story 'round to Dad.

"Um, Dad, Mom wants you to read this story . . . to yourself."

One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three . . . .

AUDIBLE SNORT.  From three rooms away.

One thousand four, one thousand five . . . Spouse comes around the corner.

"Thank you for sharing the muffin story with me, Mommy."

"You're welcome.  We're both going to Hell - you know that, right?"

"Yup.  Save me a seat if you get there first."

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