Somewhere around the 18th minute of my screaming son, I started staring blankly at the fridge.
“You hungry?” My husband asked.
“Eh? No. I’m just…looking.”
“We just ate. Geez woman.”
“No. Not hungry.” I pounded on the refrigerator door and then stalked over to the table and started violently moving things around.
I scooted chairs around and gave the dog a half-assed compliment on her combination sneeze-fart.
I opened the cupboards and pulled out a casserole dish.
I went into the bathroom and flushed the toilet, and then slammed the toilet seat down.
I unlocked the front door and looked around and said 6 bad words.
Patrick followed me.
“What?” I asked.
“What are you doing Beckey? You’re freaking me out.”
I started pushing all the buttons on the microwave.
Beep, boop, beep, beep. BEEEEEEP.
“OH MY GOSH!! WHY IS HE STILL CRYING??”
“Oh, I see what this is about, his crying is slowly making you go insane,” said Patrick. “Don’t let it get to you. I just checked on him 5 minutes ago. We’ve done everything we can for him, and now he needs to soothe himself.”
“His constant crying is making me want to punch a tiny elephant!!”
“No, Beckey. Really? A tiny elephant? But they’re so cute. They have that sad look in their eyes, and how precious is it when they hold on to one another’s tail? It’s the best. Plus, think about their mamas. Their mamas wouldn’t appreciate you punching their babies. Not to mention, you don’t even have the resources to be near, let alone punch a tiny elephant.”
“Oh, yeah? I could totally punch an elephant. Here’s how I’d do it: You know my Canadian relatives, well, I think one of them is a carny–”
“Wait, Beckey…Listen. He stopped crying.”
“I think I just saw a rainbow. So, what were we talking about?”
“It’s night time, Beckey. You didn’t see a rainbow. And we were talking about you clocking a 500 pound animal.”
“Oh, yeah, I could never do that. I love animals.”
“You’re very strange, Beckey.”
“You’re just now realizing this? OOH! I know, we should write a haiku about elephants and send it with a donation to PETA.”
I couldn’t ever
Punch a tiny elephant
I’d rather eat corn
“I don’t know what is is, Patrick, but when he cries I completely loose control. So much so, that I actually write haikus. ”
“Ya, I know.”