Conversation with my son (while working on his "Sumerian Family" essay)
Son: "I said here at the beginning that Dad wears a grass man skirt. A BIG man skirt."
Me: "mmhmmmm...That's nice."
Son: "Can I say you're approaching fifty?"
Me: "WHAT? No! I'm not 'approaching fifty'!"
Son: "Well, what ARE you approaching?"
Me: "Just put my age, if you have to."
Son (wearing kindly, pitying look): "How about if I just say you're 'approaching twenty? Then you'd feel young again.'"
Me: Why do I have to be 'approaching" anything? That's way too young anyway. I would have been a mother in the first grade."
Son: (eyes glazed with studious math-avoidance) "Whatever. "
".....hey, Mom, what's a good Sumerian name for the dog?"
Me: "Do I look like a Sumerian name expert?"
Son (clicking, clicking, clicking keys on the computer): "How about ...' Stanley'?"
Me: "Stanley?? That's not a Sumerian name."
Son: "Uh huh!. Come look."
Me: (looking over son's shoulder at the computer): "Look at that. Stanley. Huh."
Then I took a moment to survey the accompanying crayon illustration of the Family Vic circa 1200 BC.
Me: "Where's your dad in this picture? I see you and me, and your sister, nice hairy wrap dress, by the way, and the dog. And a.... er.....gazelle in a basket? Where's your dad?"
Son: "Oh, him. He's in the hut. He's sleeping because he's a night guard at the Ziggurat, and also, I was tired of drawing."
Which totally figures. I'm out by the garden with a hoe in my hand and a generously sized hairdo, laboring away in the sand under a hot Mesopotamian sun, and he's in the hut. What's more, everyone in the family got a cool retro name (Gilgamesh, Endukagga, Aruru, Stanley), except me.
At least I look really hot in my wrap dress and strappy sandals. Seriously. I should have been born a few thousand years ago.
Because right now I am way less stylish than my Sumerian alter-ego, and also kitty haggard. From kittens. In our house. (None of this is a euphemism.) Indicating how big a pushover I am as a parent, because we are really dog people, and the dog is a dog's dog and not really thrilled about the whole idea, although he is pretending to be indifferent until we leave the house, we have brought two small kittens home today. I think one of them has been drinking back-to-back Redbulls judging from the blur of destruction and chaos, and the other is still stoned from surgery and may sleep until next week. Kittens are so cute!
I'm going to need you people as spotters - if kittens appear on this blog in outfits (except a shower cap, which is excellent on any animal), or if I start talking about purchasing a cat stroller, please stage an intervention.