Snickerfodder

The Hat Club

Posted on: September 11, 2009

 

 

Last year, a friend told me that once, when her wee one was in time out, the little girl wrote her mother a note:

I hat you !

When mom found the note, she yelled to her hubby,

   “Oh, great, honey:  (Suzy) hats me!”

When I heard that, I laughed so hard I cried!  Now, being the wicked SassyMama I am, I secretly wished that one of my M & Ms would pull a stunt like that so that I could relish the twisted, perverse pleasure of sarcastically retorting to my spellingly-challenged child.  I conjured up a few tasty little remarks and filed them for safekeeping in my Verbal Warfare Arsenal (VWA).  I would be ready.  Now, I knew that because M1 is such a sharp, quick little shit, that I’d not be seeing a note like that from her.  But M2, now she’s another story…(aka Big Source of Fodder for the Snicker).   

I must have put it out to the universe; several months ago, I was cleaning M2’s bedroom (aka Pandora’s Box – you just never know what may come out of there!) when I found a yellow jumbo sticky-note under her bed.

   Yep, you guessed it; my kid hats me, too! 

Woo-Hoo!  Oh, how proud I was that she had passed a major developmental  milestone!  (plus, I couldn’t wait to tell my pal that I, too, was an official member of the Hat Club!)

I rushed from the bedroom.  In my haste, I stepped on an open, months-old tube of Go-Gurt, squirting a congealing blue-green blob all over the dresser.  I’d have stopped to clean it up, but I figured either the dog or the ants would take care of it.  I was too happy to care!  My baby hats Mama!  It’s just too, too cute!

When I finally found my sweet M2, she was locked in the dog’s crate – with the dog – trying to make him drink water from my basting syringe. 

I unlocked her and hugged and kissed her:  My baby!

“Look what Mommy found under the bed, muffin!”

She looked from the note to my eyes with an impish grin on her cherubic little face.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”  (only, as both M & M’s have no control over their                 r-controlled vowels, it came out : saw-wee).

Gone in an instant were the sharp comebacks that were so neatly filed away; gone was my desire to make fun of my own child’s lack of verbal acuity.  Poof!

I was overwhelmed by a warm mamalove, making me treasure the moment, the cute antics of a precious child learning to navigate her emotions.  The master teacher in me kicked in, and I saw this as a perfect “teachable moment”.

“What does this note say, M2?”

“I hate Mama.”

“No, baby, this says, ‘I HAT Mama’.  What do you need to add to ‘hat’ to make it ‘hate’?  I’ll give you a hint:  it’s magic…

“Oh!  An ‘e’!  I need a Magic E!”

“That’s right, babygirl; you see, with the way this note is written, you only hat Mama.  But if you add the Magic E, you can hate Mama, okay?  Understand?”

She nodded, again, a bit sheepishly, most-likely waiting for me to rip off my head and let out the alien who will be furious with her for writing the note in the first place. 

“Now, let’s go REVISE this to make it say that you hate Mama.”  (Hey, I’m an English teacher; SCREW teaching her why we should NEVER hate anything.  If she doesn’t learn to spell and write correctly, she’s gonna hate working at McDonalds).

With a red marker, she added the Magic E (including the proper proofreading caret, go, SassyMama!).

“See, baby?  Now, you hate Mama.”

She looked up at me with great pools in her eyes, slightly shaking her head, but not enough to cause those beautiful crystal tears to overflow.  She leaned  in to bury her face in my waist.

“No, I don’t hate you, Mama.  I LOVE you!   Mommy, I LOVE you!  I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!  I LOVE YOU MOMMY!  I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!  I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!  I LOVE YOU, MOMMY!”

I smothered my baby in mamalove and thanked God for letting me into

The Hat Club.

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5 Responses to "The Hat Club"

Hey that’s a cute story, I can see you doing this. Now just wait for the note that reads “FA-Q”.

Is that some sort of Twit chatter?

What the heck is “FA-Q”? I may have to include it in my Favorite Words!

If the answer is gonna make me feel old, I don’t wanna know.

Oh come on…..it’s “Fuck You” (FA-Q).

And I don’t ‘twit or tweet’ or whatever it’s called. I have, however, been called a twit, by you of course on our way to the school bus.

Love ya!

LOVE it, LOVE it, LOVE it! I smell license plate!

I am so stinkin’ old, I simply cannot keep up today’s lingo. I can tell you that I weep for the future; we’re destined to become a nation that can’t spell squat!

And for the record, Nibby: ‘twit’ was the very caboose of the daily string of stream-of-conscious epithets I unleashed upon thee on the 2-mile trek to the bus stop. You caught only ‘twit’ ’cause you were so damn slow; Carol Weaver had to make two revolutions ’round the block ’til you finally made it. Oh, yeah, bro; even Wanda, Art the Fart and Hamburger Barb did it for ya, Mr. MO-LASSES. All except for Big Fat Ernie; Big Fat Ernie don’t wait for nobody – not never; not no-how.

“Ernie will come back here and sit on you, I’ve seen him do it.”

I don’t think that poor bastard ever got out of his seat.

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