I'm still feeling the effects of this nasty flu-bug I seem to have contracted. I'm leaning toward the idea of poisoning it out of me with some good old fashioned rum. Ah ... Captain Morgan ... how do I love thee ... let me count the ways... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 976, 977, 978, 979 ...
This morning, I am sitting at my kitchen table, having a broken conversation around my little damsel flies with my mother. We are just shooting the shit and wasting the day. My eldest child is seated at her father's computer just outside the kitchen in the front hall ... but my shorty is missing, I realize. I stop ... engage my super mommy hearing ... dodidledooo (you have to hear it like an old spaghetti western) ... and then I hear the sound of a balloon being blown up .... whooosh - deep breath in - whooosh - deep breath in ... etc. So my attention turns back to trying to figure out where I was in our conversation ... and then I catch shorty outta the corner of my eye. Something isn't quite right about that balloon. For starters, it is translucent ... and it is an odd shape ... NOOO!!! I look at my mom and say "I don't tink dats a balloon". Mom says, "well what could it be??" I give her 'the look' ... she says NOOO!!!
So I attempt to call shorty over to show me her balloon, but there are no flies on her, she knows full well whatever it is that she has, she is not supposed to have it... she proceeds to try to hide it behind her back. I get up and walk over to where she is standing ... pressed backward into her still seated older sister. I reach behind her and liberate the translucent 'balloon'. I lift it up, so my mom can see as I release a little of the air ... that's when the tell tale 'well' appears - standing like a triumphant nipple, erect in the cool breeze. My 4 year old is blowing up a condom. Fark. I delicately explain that this is not a good balloon to be putting her mouth on and I go and find her another, more appropriate (hell - even slightly less inappropriate) item to play with. Meanwhile, my twit of a mother says: "what?? it isn't going to hurt her, don't make her scream" ... I'm like "Uh, Mom ... SPERMICIDE???!!! And she's all: "What's that?" and I'm like ... "I dunno, but I don't want it in my kid's mouth!!!!"
Bee is less than impressed.
About 15 minutes later, I go into my bedroom to get prepared to take a shower. Something catches my eye on my bed ... it's a pair of scissors. Uh oh ... this can't be good. I walk around to my hubby's side of the bed and find 5 empty condom packets - all have apparently been cut open with scissors. sigh ... no nooky for mom this weekend... damn!.
Now, I will have to spend the rest of the weekend rounding up rogue condoms. I can just see this little shit hiding one of these things in her back pack, saved for the next show and tell day in front of her nursery school class. I can pretty much write the ensuing letter myself ...
Dear Mrs. Dragonfly;
Please be advised that we here at the Tiny Tots Nursery School feel it is inappropriate to send your four year old to school with a condom. We are submitting a request to Social Services to schedule a home visit where they will ascertain the environment in which you are raising your children.
Until such time as this visit takes place, please do not send your child with any further sexual paraphernalia or she will be expelled from our program and criminal charges may be persued against you.
Tiny Tots Nursery School
... oh crap - these two are gonna be fun teenagers.
My youngest is an interesting sort. I am fairly certain she is the spawn of an alien life form. Namely because she refers to "people" as "humans"... and we haven't a clue where she picked this up. For example, she was regaling her grandmother this morning with the story of "Thanksgiving". She's quite the raconteur, my Bee. I overheard bits and pieces, but the part that sticks out in my mind was how she explained "the Native Americums taught the other humans (Pilgrims) how to catch jicken and grow fruit" and then they had a big BIG feast ... and that's why we celebrate Thanksgibing. Her face and hand movements are so animated. The only thing she is missing is a microphone. She's like a mini Jerry Seinfeld ... or possibly even Kramer.
Another clue presented itself when we rented our "granny flat" out to a young couple. (We need the extra cash flow desperately. They are working out well. I wouldn't even know they are here except that my mom is in the house and my bedroom has changed floors.) Bee calls them - "The Bisitors" (that's baby damselfly for 'visitor' BTW). She is constantly asking to go and see the bisitors and their bunny... did the bisitors come home? Are the bisitors gonna have Thanksgiving with us?
Hence - we think it is possible that she may, indeed be from another planet and she simply hasn't picked up the applicable vernacular just yet.
I dunno what else I expected ... I mean she is the fruit of my loins - I had to know THAT wouldn't go well.