So, I took Grace to lunch today. There were many questions.
In fairness, I started it. I asked Grace about her new friends from zoo camp this week. There was Matthew, the very cute boy who wants to learn to be a chef. He is very cool, he makes cool things with PlayDough. Then there was Sam, the junior zookeeper/counselor. He is very cool, he makes snacks.
There were too many girls at zoo camp, and apparently they were cheaters and they were fighting over the goats. So Grace had to make faces at them. Like this one…
We ate some. Then she looks at me with a super serious face and says, “So. Tell me about your mother.”
“What?!?!” I said (‘what the effing crap?!?!?’ i’m thinking)
“Tell me about O-wivia. You mother.”
“Uh. Well…” (I’m getting defensive. Why am I getting defensive?), “what? You know mema, what do you mean? What do you want to know?” I reply.
“Are you sure she’s your mother?”
“YES!” (But then I thought about it for a second) “Um, well, I’m pretty sure!”
“And papa, is are you sure he’s your dad?”
What in the hell do they put in the ranch dressing at Sweet Tomatoes?!!!
Fortunately, after a sufficient explanation of divorce and a follow-up question I will only blog about after intensive therapy, the conversation turned to my keychain.
Grace: “Why is the kitty sad?”
(Well obviously I can’t tell her the real reason. So. Much. Pressure.)
Me: “Uh, well Kitty is sad because of Republicans.”
Me: “Because they blow things up and they’re mean to poor people.”
Grace: “But why are they mean to poor people?”
Me: “I don’t know, but it makes baby Jesus cry.”
Grace: “Well, what color are the birds?”
Me: “What birds?”
Grace: “The Republic Birds”
Me: “Oh, them. Um, they’re magenta. It’s like purple and pink put together. Um, you know, forget about the Republic Birds. Kitty is sad because she didn’t get invited to the birthday party.”
Me: “Um, because she has an unlisted phone number”
Grace: “Why does she have an unlisted phone number”
Me: “Because she doesn’t want people calling to sell her stuff during dinnertime”
Grace: “Why doesn’t she want people to sell her stuff at dinnertime.”
Me: “Because she works hard all day and when she comes home she just wants to have dinner with her family. And she’s sitting down eating her dinner and the phone rings and she has to get up and walk across the house to answer it and then it isn’t even someone she knows, it’s someone trying to sell her something that she doesn’t need and she has to tell them she doesn’t want it and then she has to walk all the way back across the house to the dinner table to finish her dinner and it’s just a big waste of her time. Can we please talk about something else?”
Grace: “I want ice cream with sprinkles.”
God help me.