( I forgot to post this the other night) Mountain Dew and Easter Eve just don’t mix. Not when you are five and eleven twelfths anyway. I was at my brother’s for a birthday party today and the discussion turned to hand-me-downs. The object in question today happened to be bicycles. While I was pondering aloud about whether I would mind getting my older sister’s hand-me-down Barbie bicycle, I could not help but think back to my own childhood. I did not get any bicycles. Being an only girl you would not think I would have to wear hand-me-downs. You would be wrong. And sitting in my brother’s living room almost thirty years after the fact, it finally occurred to me that it was really not kind nor appropriate for my mother to have me wear his Tough-skin husky jeans after he’d outgrown them. Don’t get me wrong, I did feel shame and embarrassment at the time when I compared myself to the other girls in jordache and vanderbilt. The full impact of the fact that they don’t even use “husky” as a size determination in girls’ clothing did not hit home until just today though. Im not sure why, but this memory made me laugh harder than Ive laughed in quite a while.
Im writing this post at 2am because that’s how long it’s taken for Norm to fall asleep. (The Turnip never really woke up from the drive home from the birthday party which created a false sense of ease about tonight’s activities) At ten thirty, I was issuing threats about the easter bunny skipping houses where kids are still up when he comes by. Between the mountain dew and pre-holiday excitement, he was still literally vibrating at midnight (no that is not figurative, his little body would not hold still) so I relented and told him that the bunny would never skip him because he was such a good little boy. This led to a discussion of how to keep the dog from attacking and how late the easter bunny could actually come to the house. In the meantime, I was growing more tired and fearful that I would drift off before he did and risk ruining the whole holiday. At times like these, I entertain the notion of just telling him the truth so I can do my business and go to bed without worrying about maintaining the illusion. I know I couldn’t do that to him. Instead, I put him in bed with me, and waited. At first, he listened for any possible sound that could indicate bunny presence. (He knew not to get up because I told him that if he scared the easter bunny, he would have to wait for us to clean the rabbit poop off the floor before he looked for his basket in the morning.) Then, he was silent for a while and then quietly told me he loved me. I returned the sentiment and asked him what he was thinking about. “noffin’ really. Im ok. Im just grinning on my face.” He humbles me with the magic of his amazing little mind and Im so grateful my stupid adultness didn’t get in the way and ruin it tonight.