Saturday, June 13th 2015
(NIGHT TIME. Children have been put to BED. MOMMY is flat out in the marital bed at the end of the livelong day, head vaguely propped up on pillow. LAPTOP is open upon her tummy as she mindlessly scrolls through Facebook. Silently; GIRL CHILD appears, ominously tiptoes up to Mommy’s side of the bed, craning her precious little head around to peer into Mommy’s important affairs.)
GIRL CHILD: (Pointing to still frame of video on screen.) I want to watch that! Can I see that one?
MOM: (Bluntly.) No.
GIRL CHILD: WHY!?!?
MOM: (In monotone.) Because they say “shit” in it.
GIRL CHILD: What does “shit” mean?
MOM: (Cannot answer. Not proud, but laughing.)
DADDY: (Appears.) I might have to kill you later.
GIRL CHILD: (Still regarding computer.) Who IS that?
MOM: (Resigned.) That’s George Carlin.
GIRL CHILD: What does he DO? Say “shit?”
MOM: (Laughing more now. Tears streaming down her face, and…)
PS: My apologies to my dearest Aunt Jane Ann, for having to endure two scatologically-oriented posts in a row. Some days with kids are just like that!