Lest you think I was joking about my post yesterday, I now have a witness. My friend, Julie and I made it all the way through dinner and then some before I got my first voice mail from home tonight. As I listened to it on speaker phone in the car, the first words from my husband were, “Are you coming home soon? I hurt.”
After that there was a succession of three voice mails left by my 11 year-old son, who is prone to high drama.
“Mom, come home. Dad was mad at me because I was getting up to help Penny because she had a Lego, but she swallowed it, and then Dad, then Dad got mad at me, and I said I was doing my homework, and he started spazzing out and saying I’m getting my phone taken away from me forever, and that I’m not doing tournament team, and then after that he threw my backpack, shoved my math book on the ground, stomped on it, and then ripped up my band stuff, and then, and he…”
Next message continued, “…so as I was saying, he threw my backpack, shoved my math book on the floor, stomped on it, he ripped up my band sheet stuff, so he like almost tore it up,” and mysteriously trailed off.
It probably wasn’t very mature or very nice, but Julie and I had more fun inventing stuff that my son didn’t actually say on the voice mail, but might have if he’d left another one. We laughed ourselves stupid. We both hurt now.
“…and then Dad said that he’d never let me leave the house, and that I’d have to live at home for the rest of my life, and he said any time I ever watched a baseball game that he’d tell me who won wasn’t real, and that it was all made up, and that he’d only feed me gruel for the rest of my life, and then he shot at my feet, and said I had to dance, he said I had to dance, bitch, and I said why are you calling me a bitch, and then he made blood rain from the sky, and turned the oceans into locusts, and I said that I didn’t like locusts because they have so many legs, and so even though you’re stopped at a red light on Washington Avenue right in front of Sex World, you need to come home now.”
Once I arrived home everything seemed to be all right, though Cameron and Justin are reasonably sure that our dog, Penny, at the helmet of one of Cameron’s little Lego guys. They’re worried about her, but I assured them that if she’s not choking, she’s fine and it will most likely just come out the other end.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011