Our 3-year-old granddaughter has been walking around the house this morning with various stuffed animals under her shirt, proclaiming that she has a baby in her tummy and the doctor must cut it out. I am the doctor assigned to cutting open the tummy and delivering the baby to the waiting arms of the Momma. After delivering ten or so babies, I became the babysitter because Mommy decided that she had to return to work. Or maybe it was because I pulled out a needle and thread and said it was time for the doctor to sew up that tummy!
“Why not Papa? Why not let him take care of the babies while you are at work?” I inquired curiously. “No. Papa will scare the babies wif his TEEF!” Papa found his novelty snaggle teeth last night which he and our 7-year-old grandson both find absolutely hilarious. The 3-year-old granddaughter found them terrifying. She refused to hug or kiss her Papa goodnight for fear those teeth might suddenly appear again. She will not go near him this morning. She has neither forgiven nor forgotten.
In the meantime, SwampMan is losing his shit over various hoops of stupid he’s being required to jump through. He’ll read me a sentence composed of feel-good bureaucrat speak and scream at me “But what does that MEAN?” He’s on a completion deadline.
“Why are you asking ME?” I demand. “I’m not a member of The Borg any longer!”
“I’m asking you because of your expertise at translating bullshit!” Hunh. Seems I do speak a second language fluently.
Poor man is hopeless at this type of thing regardless of how many times I’ve explained that his responses don’t have to make actual sense, just contain the approved buzz words, preferably those contained in the senseless questions. I could explain this to him again, but he would accuse me of cynicism. Again. And he would be right. But so would I.
SwampMan lost patience with his bureaucratic joust and he and 7-year-old grandson have gone on a Man Quest to Home Depot. After they get back, they’re going to do Man Things at the Man Barn. We have been cautioned by 7-year-old grandson to Stay Clear on account of the probability of being bitten by snakes, cut by jagged metal or broken glass, or expiring via some other method. They’re going to Clean the Barn (no girls wanted, men only!) then build some new window screens.
Update: Zoe brought her Papa a LOT of stuffed animals this evening. “These are fo’ you to sweep wif!” she explained. Papa told her no, it was okay, she could sleep with her babies. He did not need them. “Yes, Papa! They are fo’ YOU. I sweep wif yo’ TEEF!” So she traded Papa her favorite stuffed animals for his scary snaggle-tooth teeth. Apparently those teeth are a sure talisman against monsters, bad guys, bald men, and spiders that may come creeping in the night.