A daughter of ours was talking to a grandson of ours who just returned from visiting his biological father. The aforementioned grandson told her that one of his dad's friends, who is around a lot, "is weird." Concerned about potential risk to her son, she asked him, "She's weird? What do you mean, 'she's weird?'" He became very serious and said, ""She has to put her glasses on every time she reads something." Wow! That's way too weird; is she a circus freak?
If that is weird to my grandson, I am wondering just how bizarre his picture of me must be? The next time I see him and run to him will he, in turn, run to his mom, yelling, "Stranger danger!!!"? Thank God he doesn't (I pray he doesn't) have a 24/7 web cam videoing my every move. What would he think if he were to see me, my face an inch from the bathroom mirror because my vision won't focus--with or without glasses--and scissors in hand, I'm looking up my nose in an effort to trim my nasal hairs? "And why is Papa growing them out his ears, too?" he must surely ask himself. The next logical question would be, "And why isn't he growing any on his head?" Surely, the kid is totally confused and probably expects that any day now--it's only a matter of time--I will sprout a third foot protruding from my rear-end.
I'm hopelessly and irrevocably weird. I should quietly leave the respectability of my career and run off with the circus. "Ladies and gentlemen!! Step right up and see Nature's Nasty Joke--a man with nose hair grown and curled into a handlebar mustache. See him do what only he can do--the butt walk."
Yep. My grandson's right. I'm weird and beyond repair. I'm giving two weeks notice and sending photos to Barnum and Bailey. If I could just find my glasses. . .
2 comments:
I'm amazed you just now figured out that you are a freak :) I must have done my job poorly of letting you know...oh well, thankfully, you have your grandson to carry on where I didn't.
Actually, you did an excellent job of repeatedly letting me know. The problem is I merely thought it was your perception. I have now concluded it's reality. I, indeed, am a freak. Maybe I'll have this inscribed on my headstone:
He loved nature in spite of what it did to him.
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