I spent Saturday afternoon with my BFF Madge and her spawn, Madgette, and it was during a most enjoyable excursion to the Good Will store that I realized how old, weird and embarrassing I have become. And by "I", I mean both me and Madge.
Oh, Internet, I can't even begin to tell you all the things we did and said that elicited baffled, uncomfortable looks from that six-year-old child. It was like EVERY time we went to open our mouths, her face almost seemed to say: SWEET JESUS, HERE THEY GO AGAIN. APOLOGIES TO ALL THOSE CAUGHT IN THEIR WAKE.
The expression lasted only a moment, mind you. But it was there. It was a decisive moment in her young life when she had to decide AM I ASHAMED? or DO I EMBRACE IT? So far, she's embracing us, one mortifying episode at a time.
But what happens when she's a preteen and here we are SINGING PIRATE SONGS in the line at the Kroger. And not just with pirate accents. No, we were French pirates that love cheese and wine. And we are singing loudly, projecting on all around us.
True story, y'all, except it happened in the car. But for the sake of explaining how PUBLICLY horrible we can be, lets just go ahead and set the stage in a grocery story. Seriously, you can't make this shit up:
Me: YO HO, YO HO, ME THINKS ME SPIES A PLATE OF WINE AND CHEESE.
Madge: AVAST ME MATEY. LETS LAND THIS HERE PIRATE SHIP AND GO SHORE TO PLUNDER.
Me: AYE, MATEY! SET A COURSE FOR TORTUGA AND BREAK OUT THE RUM!
Madge: NO! TONIGHT WE DRINK WINE! WE'RE FRENCH, REMEMBER!
Me: AYE, AND WE SMELL! AND WE EAT FRENCH FRIES! AND FRENCH TOAST!
(Madgette is as far away from us as possible without actually leaving our line of vision.)
Madge: ARG! WHAT GOES THERE? IS IT A WEE LITTLE PIRATE? HIDING FROM US?
Me: WELL SHIVER ME TIMBERS! I BELIEVE IT IS!
(Because I don't know how to type it out, you'll just have to imagine that dialogue peppered with our best nasally French/Disney villain laugh.)
And so it went on and on and on.
Later that night we were talking about how Madge has to murder me. (Quick aside: I MAY have accidentally introduced Madgette into a store that is irresistible to little girls and throws them birthday parties that cost hundreds of dollars. Oops.) And so Madge was telling me of the ways I would be punished for this sin. And I was repentant and accepting that I screwed the pooch majorly by not scoping out the store beforehand rather than just sending us in like blind lambs to slaughter. That's when she looked at her angelic daughter and said: YOU KNOW, ONE OF THE DAYS SHE'S GOING TO BE SO EMBARRASSED BY US.
That was it, Internet. That's all the she said. But that tiny statement crushed our hearts because of the truth it carried. There is a day in the months – hopefully years, if we can delay it – ahead in which Madgette stops being a little girl and starts on her journey to being a little lady. When that happens, the singing with fake French pirate accents might force more from her than the casual rolling of her eyes. This is a slippery slope that ends with Madgette -- some years from now – trying to reason with us on why the city will not allow anymore cats in our condo and perhaps even physically wrestling away our car keys.
And all I can say is this: Madgette, I pray your uncle and I have children so you do not have to bear this burden alone. But if we don't, I promise you that we will love you and spoil you and hopefully purchase enough of your loyalty and affection that all when we're soiling ourselves while singing with fake French pirate accents that you are able to brave the humiliation and help us change our drawers. Because, that is what your future holds, Madgette. That and a lot of other really awesome stuff that doesn't involve pirates or poop.
Oh, Internet, I can't even begin to tell you all the things we did and said that elicited baffled, uncomfortable looks from that six-year-old child. It was like EVERY time we went to open our mouths, her face almost seemed to say: SWEET JESUS, HERE THEY GO AGAIN. APOLOGIES TO ALL THOSE CAUGHT IN THEIR WAKE.
The expression lasted only a moment, mind you. But it was there. It was a decisive moment in her young life when she had to decide AM I ASHAMED? or DO I EMBRACE IT? So far, she's embracing us, one mortifying episode at a time.
But what happens when she's a preteen and here we are SINGING PIRATE SONGS in the line at the Kroger. And not just with pirate accents. No, we were French pirates that love cheese and wine. And we are singing loudly, projecting on all around us.
True story, y'all, except it happened in the car. But for the sake of explaining how PUBLICLY horrible we can be, lets just go ahead and set the stage in a grocery story. Seriously, you can't make this shit up:
Me: YO HO, YO HO, ME THINKS ME SPIES A PLATE OF WINE AND CHEESE.
Madge: AVAST ME MATEY. LETS LAND THIS HERE PIRATE SHIP AND GO SHORE TO PLUNDER.
Me: AYE, MATEY! SET A COURSE FOR TORTUGA AND BREAK OUT THE RUM!
Madge: NO! TONIGHT WE DRINK WINE! WE'RE FRENCH, REMEMBER!
Me: AYE, AND WE SMELL! AND WE EAT FRENCH FRIES! AND FRENCH TOAST!
(Madgette is as far away from us as possible without actually leaving our line of vision.)
Madge: ARG! WHAT GOES THERE? IS IT A WEE LITTLE PIRATE? HIDING FROM US?
Me: WELL SHIVER ME TIMBERS! I BELIEVE IT IS!
(Because I don't know how to type it out, you'll just have to imagine that dialogue peppered with our best nasally French/Disney villain laugh.)
And so it went on and on and on.
Later that night we were talking about how Madge has to murder me. (Quick aside: I MAY have accidentally introduced Madgette into a store that is irresistible to little girls and throws them birthday parties that cost hundreds of dollars. Oops.) And so Madge was telling me of the ways I would be punished for this sin. And I was repentant and accepting that I screwed the pooch majorly by not scoping out the store beforehand rather than just sending us in like blind lambs to slaughter. That's when she looked at her angelic daughter and said: YOU KNOW, ONE OF THE DAYS SHE'S GOING TO BE SO EMBARRASSED BY US.
That was it, Internet. That's all the she said. But that tiny statement crushed our hearts because of the truth it carried. There is a day in the months – hopefully years, if we can delay it – ahead in which Madgette stops being a little girl and starts on her journey to being a little lady. When that happens, the singing with fake French pirate accents might force more from her than the casual rolling of her eyes. This is a slippery slope that ends with Madgette -- some years from now – trying to reason with us on why the city will not allow anymore cats in our condo and perhaps even physically wrestling away our car keys.
And all I can say is this: Madgette, I pray your uncle and I have children so you do not have to bear this burden alone. But if we don't, I promise you that we will love you and spoil you and hopefully purchase enough of your loyalty and affection that all when we're soiling ourselves while singing with fake French pirate accents that you are able to brave the humiliation and help us change our drawers. Because, that is what your future holds, Madgette. That and a lot of other really awesome stuff that doesn't involve pirates or poop.
3 comments:
wow, i think you and madge should maybe lighten up on the prozac. this is one hell of a burden for one little child to bear. my heart goes out to her.
popeye
I am without words. Other than to say when you guys are wearing depends, I will be right there as the crazy dog lady who walks then bridge with her pooper scooper in hand! H.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
I think it is funny. This actually is a pretty acurate story. It is also true that she is going to be SOOOOOOO embarrased of us one day!
Post a Comment