Posts Tagged ‘humor’

October 2005
(Rhythm was then age 13, Stinkerbelle was 10)


Rhythm comes into my room under the pretense of filling my coffee, but he’s sort of hobbling rather than walking (or bouncing) and has this sullen expression on his face.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He answers with the voice of a victim.

“What happened?”

“See, what happened is…”

Rhythm starts his sentence with his head down, but then I notice he starts to turn his whole self around, so his back was to me, and he was making his wounded way slowly toward my door while wrapping up his story. I think he was trying not to let me see his smile. Why was he smiling, was it a trick? With his back to me and my own thoughts yelping at me, all I heard of his story was…

“… and then she kicked me between the legs.”

I sort of snorted. I can see that he’s hurt, and that part isn’t funny, but something about how he got hurt was fishy.

“Okay, wait.” I gather myself. “You got kicked between the legs, as in between the legs?”

The boy nods. I go back in for confirmation. “Stinkerbelle kicked you in the jewels?”

The boy nods, but then darts for the door as I call out for his sister to get her side of the story.

The girl comes in my room. She’s got this goofy look on her face that says she may be in some sort of trouble, but she’s got the same watery look of trying to hold back a smile.

“Stinkerbelle, did you kick your brother between the legs?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”

“Girl, how do you accidentally kick a boy in the nuts?”

She giggles, but only because I said nuts.

“See, this is how it goes…”

Her story starts, and I know right away I’m in for a ride. I sit back in my chair, nestle in, and take a sip of the coffee that mysteriously appeared on my desk.

“Rhythm was all up in my face, sticking his finger in my Kool-aid, and then going like this…”

She does a crazy ass gorilla dance with her arms flappin’ all above her head in a monkey-like way and her legs springing up and down, bending at the knees. She even does the facial expressions.
I giggle, but only because she just did a gorilla dance to prove to me that her brother is strange.

“… And then I went,” she panted in continuation, “to gently tap him in the stomach with my foot and I accidentally missed.”

:::head rattle::::

“Okay, wait,” I say, but with no intentions of waiting for anything, “I don’t think I’m on crack, but it sure did just sound to me like you tried to say you were attempting to gently tap your brother in the STOMACH with your foot!

She nods, no longer holding back the grin or the pinched-grin tears.

“Let me get this straight. Your story is that your brother stuck his finger in your Kool-aid, did a gorilla dance in your face, and so you tried to gently tap him in the stomach with your foot.”

She’s cracking up.

Rhythm walks back in the room, as if on cue, and says, “Stinkerbelle, how in the heck can you say you’re aiming for someone’s stomach when your leg doesn’t go that high up?”

“Well, how the heck was I supposed to know my leg wouldn’t go up that high? My eye and aim were on your stomach!” She retorts.

“Yeah, but Stinkerbelle,” interjects Mom (that’s me) “You’re trying to get me to buy the fact that you were trying to gently tap him in the stomach? Duh!”

Everyone laughs, but then Stinkerbelle spins on her brother with that hick drawl she’s picked up since we’ve been here in Kentucky, and says, “Well, yew shouldnta bin all up in my face tryin’ ta hit me!”

“I wasn’t trying to hit you in the face and you know it!” Rhythm defends. “I was goin’ like this…”

Rhythm does the gorilla dance and I lose control.

“Rhythm, you keep your fingers out of your sister’s Kool-aid and don’t go monkey-boy in her face. And Stinkerbelle, don’t try to gently tap boys in their tummies. Your leg doesn’t reach that high. Now get out of my room you two goof balls.”

And then I think to myself, this is one for the books! It’ll be so rewarding when they have kids of their own and I can just smile and nod in the distance.

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