Date: Friday, June 3. Setting: Mulletville Lite playground. Two mothers were sitting on swings with toddlers on their laps. They'd been swinging for hours.
Mother #1: What a cloudy day.
Mother #2: It really does stink.
Mother #1: I thought today was supposed to be sunny.
Mother #2: Well, that's the Northeast for you.
Mother #1: What do we do when it's cloudy, Haley?
Mother #2: Yes, Jack, what do we do?
Mother #1: We kick the clouds away!
Mother #2: Come on, Jack! Kick, kick!
Swing, swing. Kick, kick.
Mother #1: Higher, Haley! Higher!
Mother #2: Come on, Jack! They're beating us! We've got to kick away those naughty clouds!
Swing, kick. Swing, kick.
Mother #1: Kick the clouds away kids!
Mother #2: Kick the clouds away kids!
SWING, KICK. KICK, SWING.
Suddenly, projectile vomit. Everywhere.
Mother #1: Omigawd, Haley! Pumpkin! Did Mommy swing you for too long?
Mother #2: Is she okay? We were swinging for a while.
Mother #1: Pumpkin! It's all over me.
Mother #2: Is there anything I can do? Anything?
Mother #1: I've got to get her home! Right now! I'm so sorry, honey.
Mother #2: Yes! Right away! Her equilibrium...!
Me (into my sleeve): Bwaahahahahahahahahaha. Bwahahahahahaha.
Date: Sunday, June 5. Setting: Small town carnival. Junior and I atop the ferris wheel.
Me (whispering into Junior's little ear): Kick, honey, kick! Kick those pesky clouds away.
And then: Bwaahahahahahahahahaha. Bwahahahahahaha.
I love when a good laugh carries itself all the way through the weekend.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.