Thursday, December 9, 2010
What a lovely day for a tea party. Not that kind, the other kind
"Would you please get me a straw for my tea," the dame inquired. Of course, and how about some apple slices to go with it? "Oh, that's an absolutely idea! That would be lovely." Trying to avoid serving her a side of sliced finger with her gala apple, I began with the usual; how was she doing. "Oh, I'm swell," she says, channeling an Our Gang episode she hasn't seen.
How was her teddy bear doing these days? "She's good good good. I sleep with her," the little princess exclaims, "then she goes rrrrooaarrr, and then she sleeps again. Then, she goes to play with Goldilocks." She doesn't eat Goldilocks, does she? "Yes, she does! And then she goes 'rrrrrrooooaarrrrr'", which I'm guessing happens to a lot of folks who eat Goldilocks.
"I hope my sister has a great day at school," she says sweetly of the older sibling she yelled bloody murder at three hours prior for getting in her face just after she awoke. That's sweet of you, I tell her. "Yes, and she's going to the classroom, and doing the ABC's and the numbers." Yes, and hopefully not driving her teacher up the wall. "Yes, she needs to drive the car down from the wall. You don't drive the car up on the wall." You do if you're stuck in the room with 18 seven-year-olds.
Remembering something I had read online, I rhetorically ask if Obama will be able to convince his fellow Democrats to go along with his deal to keep tax rates low. "Yes, absolutely," the diaper-clad cable news expert intones. Really, how do you know that, cutey-pie? "Well, I think the hubris on display at his initial news conference, where he intoned disdain for both the Republicans with which he compromised and the Democrats who were critical of him for it showed a high level of immaturity. But the president still has plenty of time to overcome the kerfuffle if he will show some humility and a return to the gravitas on display during the campaign." Wait, what did you say? "Oh, um, Daddy, can you wear the princess shoes and the tiara?" Yes, yes I can.
"Mrroow?" the cat asks, stroking by on her way to the food bowl. You know, cat, hey...sniff sniff. Dang it, cat, when are going to learn that the floor on my side of the bed isn't your litter box. "Meow?" Yes, you. I don't know why I talk to you. "Neither do I, but if you had to squat on a pile of rocks to take a crap, you'd understand. Ugh, the chafing, exacerbated by the fact that I have to use my tongue to clean it off. Try taking sandpaper topped with millions of miniature thorns to your hiney, Dude!" No, the cat did not just say that. "Mrroww?" Um, Princess, did the cat just say something. "Yes, she said meeeeeeeeowwwww." Okay, thought I was losing it. Or rather, that I had lost it even more than in the previous paragraph.
"Okay," my Fancy Nancy clone says, "it's time to paint." Imaginary paint, of course. On our kitchen wall. Which could desperately use some real paint to cover up all the scratches, but I resist the urge to give it to her. What are you painting today? "I'm painting a Charlie Brown Christmas." And with that, the tea party ends. A waste of an hour? Not on your life.