April's Real Blog

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Poor, friendless kids

Well, the good news is we haven't segued in2 a flashback yet. The bad news is:
April,

Formerly little sis. My lovely wife, Deanna, has often stated to me that she expects that the reason our children don’t seem to have any friends, is because they are unusually, emotionally attached to inanimate objects. A good example of this occurred the other day. I didn’t witness it myself; but Deanna has pictures.

It was a dark and stormy night, just the time of night when something unexpected could happen. In our case, the unexpected thing was the delivery of our recently-purchased bunk beds. Why they couldn’t come during the day between 9 and 5, as they said they would, who knows? Needless to say, delivery men in Milborough seem to make their own hours when it comes to delivering things. It was so late in the evening, that Deanna was actually home. The ASAP Delivery truck backed into our driveway and my son or daughter was heard to yell, “The truck is here! The new bump beds are here!” As you can tell, my children have almost immediately picked up on my slang term of “bump beds”. Deanna felt she put the statement over with the kids with her well-timed head injury.

Up to the front door the delivery men came. I said to them, “Which one of you is Mr. A Sap?” One fellow said, “Are you trying to call us names?” I said, “No. Your truck says ‘A SAP’?" The deliverymen scowled to themselves and muttered something about puns being the lowest form of humour. But what do deliverymen know. They can’t even tell time.

As they walked down the hall, a silhouette said to them, “Up the stairs, second door on the left, please.” I couldn’t tell if the silhouette was I or not. As the delivery men entered the house with a bed mattress, the whole house seemed to swim in front of me. I could have sworn we had wall paneling in the hallway by the entrance hall and our stairs to the upstairs were right beside our stairs to the downstairs. Yet the paneling was gone, the downstairs stairs were gone. It was almost as if someone had looked at our house and said, “The only thing important here are the stairs and the hall.” I had to go sit down, I was so disoriented.

While I was doing this, Deanna was taking the crib frame out of the house by herself (because she is strong Deanna). She said she used her power of good motherhood to read from the expression on my son’s face he was thinking, “?!”. This means that he was excited and inquisitive at the same time. So, Deanna told me she said, “I’m taking your crib to a friend who’s going to have a baby, Robin…you’re much too big for this now.” There are some that would say perhaps my son is a little slow, because between the conversation I told you about a few days ago, where I told him he was going to a bed with sides or “wif sides” as he calls it; and the trip to the bed store, where we tried out my daughter’s new bed; it didn’t sink in to him that he would have to give up his closest friend, his crib. I suppose he thought the crib would stay in his new room to comfort him and for him to talk to.

Deanna put the crib frame against the wall, and my son said, “Can I hug him goodbye?” Deanna thought this was a breakthrough. She was sure that my son was now able to sever his bizarre attachment to his only friend, the crib. And as mom as trained her, you have to preserve those moments in pictures, no matter how strange they may seem, so that 28 years later you can show them to many other people, who can then confirm how strange it was. To that end Deanna said, “Of course you can! …But let me get my camera first.”

As my son was hugging and weeping over his crib, Deanna told me her thoughts were along these lines: “Where did my neck go? Does my hair in the back really look like it is falling in a sinkhole on the back of my head? Another milestone…another memory.”

It wasn’t until later when we had to pry my son’s hands off the crib as he cried all night long over the loss of his only friend, “Cribby” that we started to realize just how desperately our kids need friends. Fortunately, now my son is in a room all his own, we can lock him in, and stuff towels underneath the door to muffle the sound of his weeping. I don’t think any of us lost any sleep over it, except my son of course.

Love,
Michael Patterson
Aw, poor kids. Since we R doing so well w/Francie's future-therapy fund, mayB we oughta do the same 4 Meredith and Robin?

Apes

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17 Comments:

  • At 6:45 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    Yeah, yeah. He's gotta watch that turning into a silhouette thing. That could be why he takes credit for other people's accomplishments; thanks to going shadowy at random, he no longer knows who did what to whom and when now. He may look arrogant but he's just guessing he did stuff in the hopes that he can find out what happened to him.

     
  • At 12:08 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    Ugly Brother,

    The trick with towels under the door is good, but one thing I do with Frenchy is put her in a laundry sack and put her in the linen closet, all that fabric really muffles the screaming, but of course Frenchy is much more advanced than Robin, she says things to me I have to look up in the dictionary, like the other day, she said to me something like, "You slattern, you dare to presume that you shall live in connubial bliss with my paternal figure? Nay! I shall do everything in my ken to impede you!" and at first I said, "That's nice, Frenchy," but then I realized she was using her Angry Voice, so I looked up some of those words, after getting Frenchy to spell them for me, and I realized she wasn't being nice at all, so into the closet she goes, Anthony says he is glad to see me being so motherly to Frenchy, he says that his own mother kept him in a closet for the first ten years of his life, when I told April that yesterday, she said, "That figures," and I said "Yes, that explains why he's so pale," and April looked at me weird, but then, she is a Martian who will probably be getting erased soon, oh by the way, our house here in Limbo is much nicer than Anthony's old hand me down Gordon Mayes house in Milborough, it has a dictionary and a linen closet and everything, of course, we have to share it with some other people, Dennis North and Fiona Brass are here too, and they are becoming good friends, they are using Frenchy's bump beds and are thinking of entering a dance competition together, Dennis says the upside is that he thinks all this time with Fiona has turned him totally gay again, which I guess is great, but I think there might be something wrong with my allure, or maybe Fiona's anti-allure is just more powerful, also, don't tell Frenchy this, but I ran into Therese the other day, she is here, I was like, "Why aren't you off with your fancy job and your lover?" and she said, "Alors, Eeleezabeth, zjou cannot believe all dat Anthony tellz zjou! Lovah? Feh! Aftair I leeves him, zey send me here! Merde! At leest zey gives me ze fashionable clothes, oui?", and she did look pretty fashionable, and thin too, I was kind of jealous actually, and I asked, "Why did you do it Therese?" and she said, "Ai did not vant to have ze cheeldren! But Anthony, he say, 'One boy, one girl, zat is ze Milborough way!' He made me believe I could nevair get a promotion without having ze bebe. Ai did not vant to be a--how do you say?--le freak.", and I asked, "So, are you going to come visit Frenchy, it's okay if you want to, after she gets bonded to me and starts hating you proper like," and then Therese started crying and ran off, some people are so touchy.

    Liz

     
  • At 12:29 PM, Anonymous Luis Guzmán said…

    April,

    I am thinking about this limbo your sister talks about. As a muy macho Latino, I am very good at going under the limbo pole. It shows the ladies just how flexible Luis can be. I may have to go to where your sister is and show her my limbo moves.

    Luis Guzmán

     
  • At 12:43 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, it soundz like ur bro & ur sis r both whacked. eva abuya wunts me 2 help her bf duncan anderson’s silhouette 2 do sum presentation he is doin’ 4 silhouette history month. i’m supposed 2 play the “well-lit oppressor” or sumthin’ like that & hold up a lamp & say “silhouettes shud know their place.” eva sez it will be the 1st tyme a silhouette history month drama will b done in r.p.boire, or as she phrases it “another milestone…another memory.” eva planz 2 take lotsa pics. ru doin’ sumthin’ 4 this? i 4got if duncan’s silhouette talked u n2 it or not.

     
  • At 12:49 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Elizabeth,

    Slightly older little sis. “A laundry sack and put in the linen closet”. Hum! First I will have to figure out what and where those things are in my house; but the idea has promise. If Robin hasn’t stopped crying about his “Cribbie” by tomorrow, we might have to give that idea a try.l

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 1:32 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    Ugly Brother,

    Wow, a compliment!, when I read it, I kind of blacked out a little, my old doctor, Dr. Plett, is here, and he says I might of had a little stroke or something, gosh, I hope I don't wind up like that old guy who comes to Christmas dinner sometimes and can't talk, he's totally annoying, I think he might of actually liked Mira's Christmas prayer!, what a chump!

    Liz

     
  • At 1:46 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Elizabeth,

    Slightly older little sis. Dr. Plett! I remember him. Wasn’t he the freaky old doctor, who used to wear a Spiderman costume under his clothes and say things like, “My Spidey senses tell me you have the flu!” Or was he the doctor mom always complained about couldn’t make up his mind what your diagnosis was. “Tonsillitis or a touch or Otitis Media? I think.” I seem to remember mom doing an imitation of him behind his back.

    When you say “that old guy who comes to Christmas dinner sometimes and can't talk” are you talking about Anthony Caine? I seem to remember that’s what he did at Christmas Dinner and he does look kind of old.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 1:47 PM, Blogger howard said…

    April,

    I just saw a show you might find interesting some time. It’s called Kids Hug the Darnedest Things and it’s hosted by Bill Cosby and Art Linkletter. The premise of the show is the host shows an unusual object to a cute child (around the age of 3-8) who would usually respond by hugging it. Then the host says the tag line, “Another milestone…another memory”, as the studio audience goes “Awwww!” in response.

    I don’t think it’s a new show. In the episode I saw, they had kids hugging a bowl of Jello brand gelatin, a baby crocodile, an old set of luggage owned by Celine Dion (no, not her husband), and Michael Jackson.

    Love,
    Howard Bunt

     
  • At 2:06 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    Ugly Brother,

    No, Anthony said, "Pass the peas," remember?, the really old guy who didn't talk and sat at the end of the table is the one I'm talking about, all he did was pass gas, it was gross.

    Liz

     
  • At 3:44 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    grandpa jim, liz. the "old guy who didn't talk" is our grandpa jim. he didn't talk b-cuz of his aphasia. from the 2 strokes he's had.

    oh, and the way u r treating francie is downright abusive. pls don't put her in a sack and/or put her in a closet nemore! that's horrible!

    jeremy, duncan has asked me 2 avoid interacting w/his silhouette. he sez all these ppl interacting w/his silhouette as a separate entity has made it v. difficult 2 try reintegr8ing w/his shadow.

    apes

     
  • At 4:38 PM, Anonymous Duncan Anderson’s silhouette said…

    April,

    Well, Duncan Anderson has a lot of nerve to tell you that, especially during Silhouette History month. While he’s been sitting out in Barbados for months at a time, who’s been the one to do his schoolwork? Who’s been the one to wine and dine his girlfriend, Eva Abuya? Who’s been the one to have to laugh at Gerald’s lame jokes?

    If Duncan Anderson wants to reintegrate with me, he’ going to have to come back to Milborough and take over his responsibilities. Tell him to meet me at Horny T’s. After I have a double-double with my girlfriend Eva, then I’ll beat him up.

    So there,
    Duncan Anderson’s silhouette

     
  • At 4:49 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. Just because Elizabeth is talking about an unknown old guy who didn't talk and sat at the end of the table and passed gas, doesn’t mean it is always Grandpa Jim. I know you like to think of Grandpa Jim as the only old, non-talking, gas-passer around; but don’t forget that dad and Wilf Sobinski were also at Christmas Dinner, and they are both old and pass gas and speak almost as incoherently as Grandpa Jim at times. It could have been them too. After all, what’s the difference if Grandpa Jim says “Boxcar!” and dad says, “Boxcar!” Not a lot I would say. I think they each sat at the end of the table once or twice during Christmas Dinner. After all, we did have to switch places around during dinner a few times when Grandpa Jim would go to the washroom and would come back and sit in a different chair. Don’t always assume that just because Liz smelt it, it was Grandpa Jim who dealt it. You weren’t there.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 5:04 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    Ugly Brother,

    You are quite right, there was a lot of farting and shouting about boxcars at the table, but I was sitting by the old guy who didn't talk, and I know it wasn't Dad or Wilf Sobinski, if it was Dad, he would have talked about cabooses, and how that is his favorite part of the train, and how Mom had a fine "caboose" when he married her, blah blah blah, and Mr. Sobinski always goes on and on about how you can kind of get the American channel that shows nude mudwrestling if you position a big antenna on your roof just right and kind of squint through the static, so I think April might be right, it must have been Grandpa Jake, anyway, that was the most annoying Christmas ever, I had to sit between you and Grandpa, and across from Iris, BORING!, not that there is any better place to sit at a family gathering, except maybe by Anthony, and even that isn't so great, if I tried to hold his hand under the table or something he probably would of put it in his lap and winked at me, ugh, why are men so gross?

    Liz

     
  • At 5:13 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Elizabeth,

    Slightly older little sis. Let me assure that if you tried to hold my hand under the table, I would not put it in my lap and wink at you. So, not all men are gross. In fact, there was a time at dinner when Iris reached for my hand (claiming you hold hands during a prayer, or some such nonsense as that), and I am not sure what she planned to do with my hand once she had it. However, that prayer was long enough so that anything was possible. I’m glad we stayed away from the hand-holding.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 5:46 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    Ugly Brother,

    I would never hold your hand, you would probably put a bug or a booger in there to play a trick on me, you are so not mature.

    Liz

     
  • At 6:24 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Elizabeth,

    Slightly older little sis. I do not put bugs or boogers in my hand without using a tissue. Remember what mom used to say:

    A bug or booger in the hand
    Is a thing which should be banned.
    A bug or booger is no issue,
    If it’s covered with a tissue.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 1:35 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. Shopping in furniture stores can be tricky. You think that when you see the furniture on display in the store, then that is how the furniture is going to look in your home. After all, the common perception is that you are just moving something from one place to another. However, I can tell you, even a simple move like from a downstairs apartment to an upstairs apartment, can be tricky when it comes to beds.

    For example, in the store, my daughter's bunk bed had a ladder all the way to the foot of the bed, and the bed was taller than I was. Not only that, but I could swear the bed did not have a desk beneath it. Yet, when the bed was assembled in my daughter's room, the ladder was about 1/3 metre from the end, it was about my wife Deanna's height and there was a desk with a chair and lamp under it. I mentioned those differences to Deanna and she said, "Well, I guess you are not as observant a writer as you thought you were." She seemed to be completely unperturbed by the differences, almost as if she expected the bunk beds to look differently. That's one thing I can say about Deanna and our home decor, when there are unexpected changes in things we ordered together, they never seem to get her upset.

    While I was mulling over these alterations in my mind, Deanna began putting a pillowcase on a pillow, in that way she does where she pins the pillow under her chin and forces the pillowcase on it, using her chin for leverage. I would show her the way mom taught us to do that, but experience has taught me saying "Mom does this better" is not a good thing to tell your wife. Besides, if I showed Deanna a better way, then I might find myself putting pillowcases on pillows. Nobody wants that, especially me.

    While she was doing this, my daughter walked up to her and said, "Can I call my friend Karina an' tell her I got bump beds?" Deanna's reply was "Sure!" My reply would have been "Don't call it 'bump beds' to your friends or they will think you are an ignorant Quebecoise girl." However, I was too disoriented to respond.

    Then I realized my daughter was playing my wife like a violin in a glue factory, with a series of extremely intelligent questions. My daughter said, "Can I tell her she can sleep over sometime?" Deanna replied, "Of course!" She didn't expect the trap which was coming.

    As my wife showed her firm, rounded buttocks to the camera as she made up my daughter's bed; my daughter proceeded on her inquiry with "When can she stay over?" My wife remained firmly non-committal with "I don't know. We'll have to figure that out." Having been rebuffed, my daughter decided to try a different tact. She said, "Can I have TWO friends?"

    As you probably recollect, my daugher has never had a friend over, and so it was with great surprise that she informed us of this Karina. I would have thought she had two friends, until I examined the question and realized that she was not saying, "May I have two friends?" but "Can I have two friends?" She was questioning her ability to have that many friends and given her normal disposition, this is a reasonable question.

    At this point my son piped up and said, "What about ME? I gots friends too!" Well, I am sure you know what direction my son was going to take that statement. If Deanna said, "Yes" to my son, then you could be guaranteed that little Cribbie, my son's crib friend, was going to get invited. My wife wisely responded, "Let's just think about it, OK?"

    However, she should have used her words more carefully, because my daughter immediately got on her call phone and called Karina, using the exact words which Deanna told her to. She said, "Hello, Karina?--I'm thinking of inviting you for a sleep-over!!" Deanna was dumbfounded at how easily she was verbally manipulated and I was bursting with fatherly pride.

    It didn't last too long, because my daughter's next words were, "It's Meredith, Karina. Meredith Patterson. I sit next to you in kindergarten. I have blonde hair. No, it's not bleached. Yes, the girl with the fat lips." Then there was some crying about something. I don't remember what. More tomorrow.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     

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