(While walking Zyk the giant poodle and Mr. Pickles. Anne is riding her scooter, having decorated her arms with the 7 blue plastic grocery bags required to scoop all the crap. The poodles are prolific crappers.)
Anne: Mom, these bags totally make me go way faster. Weeeee!
Me: You look mental. You look like a trailer park version of a solar sail.
Anne: Don't care! I! Am! Awesome!
Me: As much air as those bags are catching, I am pretty sure they are slowing you down.
Anne: Mom, are those basset hounds, beagles, or bagels? I can never tell any of those apart.
Me: Basset hounds. What do you mean you can never tell them apart. Dogs and bread! It's dogs and bread!
Anne: No, I mean, I sometimes say, "I'd like my beagle toasted," or once I said, "I like to eat blueberry basset hounds, but I hate the cinnamon ones." Stuff like that.
Me: What about, "That bagel won't stop barking and I think it crapped on the couch?"
Anne: Seriously, Mom? What is your problem?
Me: I have a Tale of Suffering about a basset hound...
Anne: (scootering away) Nooooooo! I am not listening to another of your tales of misery! How can anyone's childhood be that bad? Go awaaaaaaayyyyyy!!!
Me: Get back here! Get back here or you're carrying the poop bags!
(Anne coasts to a stop, and gives me a look of resigned disgust.)
Me: So, I was 5. For the first few days of kindergarten, your grandmother walked me to school. Then, your uncle was supposed to walk me, but he mostly ditched me by the time we reached the first telephone pole.
Anne: Is this the one about the other kids throwing stones at you? I have heard this one. Many times.
Me: No, no, no! That was in 5th grade. I hope those little shits all ended up like Honey Boo Boo's mom. No, no stone throwing in this one. So, I was walking to kindergarten, and I saw this basset hound. I had never seen one before...
Anne: OMG, Mom. Does the dog die? I am not listening if the dog dies.
Me: Shut up and listen. I am setting a mood. So little me and my bookbag are walking down the street to my school, which was at the top of the street. And there's this basset hound in a front yard across the street, just staring at me. Except he's wearing a little yellow rain slicker and little yellow boots! It was the late 70's! No one put clothes on dogs!
Anne: Who's dog was it?
Me: Some old lady who wore pantsuits. And neckerchiefs. Anyway, I had never seen the dog before LET ALONE A DOG IN A RAINCOAT! It was amazing!
Anne: Cute! So, now does the dog die?
Me: Shut up. So, I stood there for a while and tried to will the basset hound to cross the street and play with me, but he just stared at me. And I wasn't allowed to cross the street. So I decided to sing him a song because he looked sad.
Anne: Hate to break it to you, Mom, but all basset hounds look sad.
Me: I WAS 5!!! So, I sat down on the curb and sang all the songs I knew to him: Happy Birthday, Away in a Manger, Jesus Loves Me, and this one I made up about 4 blue jays. I can't remember how that one goes...
Anne: Thank you, Jesus!
Me: Anyway, next thing I knew, your grandmother comes charging up the street screaming at me. I guess the school called her and told her I hadn't shown up and she came looking for me.
Anne: Oh my God, Mom! How long were you singing at that dog?
Me: Well, I sang each song multiple times. And made up verses. And I tried to tempt him with a stick. He never moved. He just stood there in his little booties, staring at me.
Anne: Do you think the old lady in the pantsuit was watching you from her window and laughing at you? I bet she was.
Me: IT HAD NEVER OCCURRED TO ME, ANNE! THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS MEMORY MORE PAINFUL!
Anne: Also, maybe that's why the other kids threw stones at you. I'm just saying.
Me: I never did pet that basset hound. (sigh)
Anne: How can anyone's childhood be so miserable! Don't you have one happy memory? Just one?
Me: No. Wait.... ummmm.... no.
Anne: What about a teddy bear? Didn't you have a nice teddy that you loved?
Me: DO NOT GO THERE! I DID NOT HAVE A TEDDY! I HAD A GIANT STUFFED THUMB THAT MY DAD GOT ME WHEN I WAS BORN AND EVERY YEAR ON TEDDY BEAR DAY I WAS THE ONLY KID WITH A GIANT THUMB AND EVERYONE LAUGHED AT ME!
Anne: Oh my God, that's awesome! I mean... I love you, Mom.
Me: Nice try.
Anne: What about a favorite book? You love books! What was your favorite book when you were my age?
Me: Oh, that's easy! The Girl With The Silver Eyes! I loved that book!
Anne: See! A happy memory! What was it about?
Me: Ooooh! It was about this girl with silver eyes and she was telekinetic and she had no friends and she ate thick peanut butter sandwiches and orange juice for lunch just like I did! Peanut butter and orange juice was my number one favorite. Number 2 was a mayonnaise sandwich, which probably explains my ass. Her eyes were silver because her mom took this medicine when she was pregnant. Like the flipper children. Never mind. Forget I said that.
Anne: Those are the most disgusting lunches I can imagine. We'll come back to the flippers. You're gross. Is that why the kids threw stones at you?
Me: SO ANYWAY... I figured I must be telekinetic too. I mean, I don't have silver eyes, but my one eye is half brown and half blue so I figured I could move smallish things or maybe start fires. So you know what I did?
Anne: What?
Me: I took a picture of my friend Jenny and set it on my dresser and spent several nights willing it to move.
Anne: No. You. Did. Not.
Me: And then one day I noticed it was gone! I found it in a drawer! So, I figured I had moved it with my mind while I was asleep! I told everyone I had telekinesis! But your grandmother was going through her "doily on the head evangelical" phase and I am pretty sure everyone thought I was a satanist.
Anne: I do that. I try to move things with my mind every night. It's not working yet. I think I'm close. And when I was 6, I spent, like, months trying to fly off the couch or my bed. And the stairs.
Me: How did that work out for you?
Anne: Nothing. Once I thought for sure I went up a little bit, but that was it. I was really surprised that I couldn't fly. I really thought I could. I still do.
Me: Untie one of those bags from your arms. The craptastic wonder twins strike again!
Anne: They are ruining my look. Ooooh! The bags! They're like sails! I can fly!
Me: Yes, you can, baby girl. Here. Hold the poop bag.
~dana
