Month: November 2013

“Let’s make brainsand slap the silly sammyworm!”

This is one of those “you had to be there” deals, but it was hilarious at the time.

Snaotheus and Crew  came up for my birthday a couple weeks ago and Chilkat uncharacteristically decided she liked me. This may have been related to the fact that she chose my birthday card (which was pink all over and had a My Little Pony on the front as well as a bunch of MLP puffy stickers inside, which not surprisingly showed up rather quickly on everyone). Or even that I was in the process of cutting out cracker dough using teeny weenie cutters in the approximate shapes of animals, and we dragged over a chair so she could climb up and help (which, in her lexicon, means “eat all the dough I can get my hands on”).

After the requisite visit to The Auncient and sharing the four-foot-tall birthday cake KrisDi had constructed, and the Great-grandma had attempted to coo and snorgle the new great-grandson she hadn’t yet seen, we drifted on back to my house. Toddling here and there, Chilkat came across the Mickey Mouse watering can I’d bought last summer with her in mind. Mickey’s face is the part that holds water, his arm is the sprinkler bit, and there’s a hole in the top where water goes in.

My approximations of dialogue are always subject to KrisDi’s correction, because even if mine are funnier, she is The Keeper of the Family Speechifyin’ by virtue of having gotten all the “remember” cells that her husband and his mother did not. So here’s how I remember it.

Snaotheus and I were sitting on the floor, where we’d been playing with Chilkat and the dinosaurs, which are most definitely not to scale since the T-rex is overshadowed by the tricerotops and pterodactyl. Chilkat toddled off and came back pretty soon with the Mickey watering can.

“Hey! Find Mickey!” she exclaimed with delight, handing her dad the watering can. “Mickey back Gamma’s couch!” We interpreted that to mean she had found it behind my couch. She looked at it more closely. “Mickey brains missin’!” she lamented. “Why Mickey no got brains?”

Foolishly, I attempted to tell her that that particular Mickey didn’t have brains because you filled him up with water.

Well, that was patently ridiculous. She frowned at me. “Mickey need brains.”

“This Mickey doesn’t,” I (also foolishly) insisted.

She stomped her foot. “Mickey need brains.” Her face lit up. “I know!” she said, waving her arms around, “Let’s make Mickey brains and slap the silly sammyworm!”

“Um. . . could you say that again?” I asked. Her dad had already cracked up and her mom was giggling.

“Let’s make brains and slap the silly sammyworm!” she repeated agreeably, looking all around her at the grown-ups to show her pride in a good idea well conceived.

Son and I looked at each other. I caught his giggles. “What’s  a sammyworm?” I asked him between hoots.

“How should I know?” he replied, rolling his eyes and chortling into his sleeve.

“Say it again, honey?” asked her mom. “We can’t understand you.”

Chilkat heaved a great, world-shaking sigh. By this time, the adults’ laughter was rocking the house. Chilkat made her “patient” face, as one would with those of substandard intellectual ability, and repeated the phrase.

That was all it took. All three of the grown-ups burst into raucous guffaws, complete with tears rolling down cheeks, and none of us could stop. It had become a self-perpetuating loop.

Chilkat put hands on hips and glared around at all of us. “You stop laughin’ at me!” she demanded. Which, of course, coupled with our efforts to stifle ourselves, only made us laugh harder.

“What’s a sammyworm?” I choked out again, between guffaws.

Snaotheus gasped, struggling to get air into his lungs. Finally he was able to catch enough to speak. “How do I know?” he gasped out, and he was off again into typhoons of laughter, which set off KrisDi and me again.

I don’t recall what happened after that, but I rather suspect it had little to do with the behavior that, as adults, we’re expected to model for our children.

And we never did figure out what she meant.

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Speaking of mixed messages. . .

. . . I noticed yesterday that the aisle to my right in the drug store was all-candy-all-the-time, and the aisle on my left overflowed with diet and weight-loss products. Whaaaaa?

(Of course I know the hyphens shouldn’t be there following the “was.” That’s one of the rules I can break because I know the rule. “Weight-loss” does take a hyphen in that situation. I am a professional with lots of experience; do not try to do this at home.)

Posted by wordsmith in Family, 0 comments