Straddlin’ The Line

Posted on: October 3, 2009


God knows how I love my babies.  Though I should have been forbidden to reproduce by court order, God has cursed blessed me with two beautiful, wonderful little girls.   They are bright, happy and active!   I am so very proud when they bring home great report cards, demonstrating their intelligence.



 There is a fine line between genius and idiocy.



My kid straddles that line.


Now, there is no doubt that the kid has smarts, which, I can guaran-damn-tee, she did NOT get from ME.  (All I passed on to my poor progeny:  bad hair, bad skin, bad balance and a bad, bad, bad case ‘o bad-ass-sass.)

The Dingus and I sometimes call her “Three”; she reminds us of Michael Keaton’s 3rd clone in Multiplicity – the one with the goggles and aviator cap.  This handle is most appropriate as she enjoys wearing her Speedo goggles while bathing. 

Now the goggle-thingy might not sound so odd as to warrant a comparison to the movie-clone “Three”, but one must consider the fact that during her bath, she takes to wrapping her entire mouth around the rather large tub faucet and turning on the tap – full-blast.  (Though I keep waiting for little fountains to spring from her ears, I have seen it gush forth from her nozzles.)

When my baby was just a wee one, toddling around, wreaking havoc wherever she could, we kept in her sister’s bedroom a little beta-fish in a clear, square-ish ‘bowl’.

M1 came to me one day, pulled on my shirt, and said,


Mommy!  M2’s drinking the fish again!


I tore to the room’s doorway.   I nearly tossed my cookies at the sight of my 2 yr. old atop a kiddie stool, bowl in both hands, GULPING the FILTHY, brown, turdy water!!!  UUUUGGGGHHHH!

The poor damn fish was just a’sloshin’ away inside, going on the ride of his life.

I screamed her name, but was simply too horrified to move.  She didn’t move either.

Sated, she slammed down the bowl and turned toward me.

She swiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a most-satisfied, “AAAAHHHH!”, like she was in some Gatorade commercial, having just gulped THE most refreshing drink ever dumped down her gullet.

Two days later, the beta committed fishicide; he leaped from the bowl to his death.  I found his brittle little body behind a dolly on the dresser, about a foot away from his bowl.  (On second thought:  maybe M2 ‘freed’ him from his wet, happy home…hmmm.)

Once, when my parents came to visit our asylum, my mother was helping me clean up one of M2’s ‘experiments’ (which, for some strange reason, always seem to involve water….)


Grandma:    ‘Oh, my, honey!  She’s so…busy

                     (Oh, how I love my mother’s euphemisms!)

                     I just don’t know how you keep with her! 

                     While you’re cleaning up one mess,

                     she’s already on to another!’


Weary Viv:  ‘Oh, no, Mother; while I’m cleaning up one mess,

                      she’s already THREE more ahead of me!’


Just the other day (on the same infamous B-BALL KILLA day, in fact), she proudly displayed one of my ‘good’ spoons she had folded to a right angle.


The Viv:  “M2, PULEASE tell me you did that with your MIND!”


(Nope; with her hands, ‘just for fun)


(HEY!  Maybe my hoop wasn’t mangled by the Rude Dude! 

Maybe my idiot-savant kid did it!)


The very next evening, during our Chinese class, M2 disappeared into the bathroom.  A couple of minutes later, she stood by our tutor, Ms. E., with water streaming down the sides of her tight-lipped mouth. 




Once again I was absolutely mortified by my offspring’s off-putting, yet awe-inducing idiocy.   I demanded that she swallow the water immediately and sit back down to practice the language.

As she shook her head to the negative, my kid became a human freakin’ sprinkler.

As the lady-like Ms. E. wiped the spray from her face, my little Three caught sight of MY face.  (The ALIEN within had emerged!)

At that, she opened up her mouth to reveal the PRIZE INSIDE!:  a  2”x2” neatly folded, water-sodden paper towel resting on her tongue. 

(*Ms. E. is utterly dumbstruck by my kid; she keeps asking me ‘how old is she again?’)

In the six looooong years of M2’s life, I have learned (the very HARD WAY) never to eat or drink ANYTHING the kid proffers and to keep out of her reach:  Sharpie markers, hard candy, hammers, nails, sandpaper, scissors, (hell, ALL sharp objects), duct tape, Crazy Glue, 9-volt batteries, modeling clay, flour, condiments and toothpaste (just to name A FEW). 


I thank God on high that she has a healthy fear of the shitter.  


My M2 is just the sweetest, happiest, loving little thing, and though she does keep me busy, and though she does keep me waking each day fearing the fresh hell that is to come, I couldn’t adore her more.

Her THREE-ness is what makes her so special (yes’m; ‘at dere’s a pun).

As long as they make Paxil:  I wouldn’t change her for anything in the world!

I know, right now, prison is my biggest fear.

I also know that the terror of being Big Lulu’s bitch behind bars will pale in comparison to the horror of  M2’s impending teen years….








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