Monday, June 28, 2010


It was one of THOSE mornings…

One of those mornings when I overslept and I’m already running late and everything is going wrong and I keep forgetting things and the Energizer Bunny is doing everything he can to slow down the process and then it happens.

He declares he wants me to stay home. “Alllllll day, forever and ever and ever.”

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I’d just gone from being really late to might as well have called in sick ‘cause you didn’t have any time to get any work done anyway late.

Commence Energizer Bunny crying. And what kind of a mother would I be if I left the Energizer Bunny crying for his Mommy? And what kind of a wife would I be if I simply left it for the Unsupportive Louse to deal with? And so, of course, like all good mothers and wives would do, I stayed.

Half and hour later, the Energizer Bunny was physically holding me down (I’m sure I could have thrown him off, but this takes us back to the “what kind of a mother would I be if…” question and really, this isn’t a question I want to have to ask myself more than once in a day), all while holding my bike helmet hostage to be certain I won’t be able to leave, even if I do attempt a violent escape.

Having tried everything else, I put on my sternest grown-up voice and say, “Bunny, I AM going to work RIGHT NOW, so you need to let me up and give me a kiss goodbye.” I can’t be ALL mean, geez. And I get up. And he seems to be okay with this. And then he runs off with my helmet. Dammit.

So I track him down and try to convince him it’s really a better idea for me to have my own helmet than his tiny yellow frog-speckled helmet, as, after all, it doesn’t fit me.

And then I did it. I am ashamed to say… I used a tactic my mother would have used. I tried to guilt him. I’m hanging my head. It was a last ditch effort, the only thing left that I hadn’t tried. But you’re right, it was terrible none-the-less. But never fear, in the end, I got what I deserved.

You see, my father used to ride his bike to work, and my father (who wore a helmet every time he rode) was hit by a truck and was killed. On his bike. On his way to work. It’s a terrible story. But the little, sweet, innocent, conniving, manipulative Energizer Bunny who is holding my helmet hostage has heard it before. So I simply reminded him that sometimes, only sometimes, people driving aren’t careful, or if a biker isn’t wearing their helmet – a helmet that fits them well- maybe, just maybe, something terrible could happen. Say…that person could die. So please, pretty please, may I have my helmet to wear to bike today?

The Energizer Bunny screams “NOOOO! I WANT you to DIE!” I told you I got what I deserved.

I closed my eyes to control the milieu of emotions coursing through my head and simply said, “Sweetie, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

He screws up his face in concentration and then, as he’s been so well taught, asks in a calm and rational voice, “Please, Mommy, can I take your helmet so you can die?”

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