Tank: (Seeing a baby on TV) Oh, mommy, look a baby!
Me: That’s right.
Tank: I want one!
Me: You have your brother.
Tank: No, I want a new little one like that.
Me: Sorry, bud, no more babies.
Tank: Can I have one for my birthday?
Me: How about a fish?
I can see this is how kids negotiate getting puppies and ponies.
So, here’s the thing. I punched a badger.
I have a nasty bruise, a major knot, but nothing broken. I know nothing is broken because I had an appointment with my orthopedist about my other hand. I have arthritis. I’m a hip, happening young gal like that. I asked him if he’d just take a look. He told me while it was the worst case of badger abuse he’d ever seen, nothing was broken.
Thing is? The badger didn’t exist. I had a dream this badger was following me around the backyard of the house I grew up in. It wouldn’t go away. Obviously, it gave not one shit that it was annoying me. Finally, I was all look. This has to stop. I’ve got things to do. He reared up on his hind legs, and I clocked him one. But I actually punched. Like in real life. I knocked out the headboard. FORTUNATELY, The Chuck had already gotten up. That would have been a fun shiner to explain: “Uh, yeah, my wife thought I was a badger…well, she was asleep…right hook…no, I don’t think her footwork was that great because SHE WAS ASLEEP…yes, she has an excellent therapeutic team, thank you.”
I have run in my sleep several times–nearly rendering my honey a soprano. I’ve yelled for help, for The Chuck, for quiet, and once I woke up saying, “I’d have thought that would have been printed on there.” I routinely flail and often have to apologize to my bed-mate for smacking him one. I thought the badger was a new thing, but according to The Chuck and The Girl I had dreamed about badgers before. You may have a recurring dream about showing up for the first day of school naked, I have a recurring dream about a member of the weasel family that is the main source of trichinosis outbreaks in the Alti region of Russia.
Also? Not for nothing, but it’s kind of hard to find a country that rhymes with “badger”.
Such a heteronormative weekend we had. THANK GOD. Chuck did some work in the yard. Grilled a large slab of meat. I took to my fainting couch with a very lady-like migraine. He had a good ride on his SuperStrate™© Man Bike.
A ride. On a bike. IN SPANDEX!!! DAMN YOU, GAY MARRIAGE! DAMN YOU!!