In thiiiiiiiis corner, Linda. Weighing in at 135 pounds, five feet four inches. Known to jump and clap when Junior arrives at family functions.
In the oooooother corner, Joyce. Topping the charts at 100 pounds, five feet tall. Famous for saying "no" at family functions when asked to hand Junior over.
And so two titans meet.
This Sunday, we will have Junior’s first birthday party. My mother, Linda, and Charles’ mother, Joyce, will be in the same room with Junior—for the first time ever.
Charles and I are both scared of these women. When Junior was three months old, we took him to Charles’ brother’s house and his mother literally grabbed Junior from me and would not give him back. The only reason I got my child back (a mere two hours later) was so she could pee. And oh the look she gave me when she handed him back, betrayed by her very own bladder.
Just this Saturday, I had no sooner pulled up to the curb for a family picnic when I noticed my mother standing next to the car. She had materialized like something out of the Terminator.
Ever seen Rebecca De Mornay in the Hand that Rocks the Cradle? Well, these women are both blonde and they both want my baby. If I was asthmatic and we had a greenhouse, I’d seriously consider a move to Alaska (why Alaska? Because Alaska is one of the few states where men outnumber women, which means fewer psychotic blonde women will be materializing outside my windows).
Party day, I’m contemplating affixing my son to my chest with Crazy Glue. I’ll beat them back with plastic forks if I have to. Tie helium balloons to their feet when they’re not looking so they float away. Far, far away.
Where is the chapter "Granny's Gonna Get You?" in “What to Expect the First Year?” Where the hell is that chapter?
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