BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Elizabeth Taylor ain’t got nothin’ on the Evil Redhead…

Seriously.

E K is way hotter than E T ever was, and way more evil.  By several orders of magnitude on both accounts… And, she’s really a Kat. So there…

Yeah, so obviously this is a bit of a play on words and all, but since I’ve also been babbling in my status updates about helping Scuba with a roof job he has, I thought perhaps I’d give y’all a bit more info.

Especially since I’ve only recently discovered the fact that E K didn’t leave her evilness on the ground when she went up that ladder…

Day 1 – Tearoff…

I didn’t arrive at the site of the roofing job until late morning because there was a furnace issue at Hell House I had to address. By the time I made it to the roof, tearoff was in full swing. Here you can see her supreme evilness shoveling old shingles in the direction of the dumpster below (out of frame)… I later found out that she was covering up the bodies of those who had been in her way while doing the tearoff. It seems she would simply lure them to the edge of the roof, then hit them in the back of the head with the shovel and push them off into the dumpster. Then, like a cat in a litter box, used the old shingles to cover up the… Well, you get the idea.

BTW, the reasons you will see no pictures of me on the roof –

1. Due to a severely injured foot (long story) E K forbade me from being up there lest I fall off and kill myself. At first I thought this was kind of heartwarming, but she later told me that she simply didn’t have time to break in a new lackey.
2. I was afraid E K would hit ME in the back of the head with a shovel and push me off into the dumpster. I mean, you never know…

Here we have a shot of the Dewalt Boom Box / Battery Charger that goes everywhere Scuba goes. Much grumbling came from the kids on the crew – those E K hadn’t yet pushed off into the dumpster, anyway – because all of us old farts had the toonage set to classic rock from our era.  And, of course, there you have the redheaded roof mistress on the right…

This is a picture of what we on the ground (working cleanup and cut crew) thought was E K helping Scuba with the shingles. Of course, we later found out she was threatening to hit him with a shovel if he didn’t get on the ball. What a slave driver she is…

Here is the Evil Redhead once again. Turns out that this time she was threatening to kick the ladder over if Scuba didn’t hurry up and move faster…

Okay, okay… So, she didn’t really push anyone into the dumpster and she didn’t threaten to kick over the ladder. However, she still didn’t check her dominant self at the door.

During the job, on several occasions Scuba would say, “I’m done. Let’s call it a day,” whereupon he would find something else to do and start in on it. After the fourth or fifth time he did this, E K put her hands on her hips and announced, “Steve, you’re done! Get down off the roof. NOW!”

Yep, he did what she told him to do. Even Scuba knows it’s best to obey the Evil Redhead… Besides, she still had a shovel up there with her and there was room in the dumpster.

More to come…

Murv

My child is freakin’ brilliant.

I realize you’ve all heard me say this before, but hey, it’s the truth. She got her looks from her mother and her brains from me. Just don’t tell E K I said that… The brain part, I mean.

But seriously, The Evil Redhead and I ended up as some downright lucky parents, because the O-spring truly is brilliant.

Quirky, yes. Not quite Ally Sheedy from The Breakfast Club quirky, but then we don’t ignore our daughter like the parents ostensibly did to the character in that movie.

So, maybe with a little more luck on our side, the O-spring won’t end up being an “outcast shoplifter pickpocket with ungodly bad dandruff” who eats potato chip and pixie stix sandwiches for lunch.

Of course, knowing her current culinary tastes, potato chip and pixie stix on Wonder bread would probably appeal to her quite a bit. Hell, throw a few slices of bacon on there and even I might give it a go.

But, back to this whole language thing. Something I’ve never brought up before is the fact that our child used to be bi-lingual. Yes, I said used to be. She’s back to speaking only one language these days, although she does know a smattering of Spanish. But, back in the day she was fluent in two different languages.

Allow me to explain…

You see, we knew the o-spring was at the head of her class when she was still dumping loads in Pampers and falling asleep face first in her strained green beans. Well, to be honest we used cloth diapers and a diaper service in order to be a little more environmentally sound, but we won’t go into that. The thing is, even at that early an age, the child was fascinated by everything and couldn’t wait to assimilate any information she could possibly absorb, just like a dry sponge in a bucket of water.

However, we had no idea just exactly how far to the head of the class she was until one day when I arrived to pick her up at the day care.

She was all of about 2 1/2 years old at the time. We had already discovered that when the other kids in her age group were down for a nap in the afternoons, she refused to join them. Instead, she would spend nap time wide awake, and would put the time to good use by designing highly advanced, non-polluting mass transit systems using Legos and Lincoln Logs. Being quite the multi-tasker, she would simultaneously be explaining the theoretical properties of singularity event horizons to her caregivers. A couple of them even admitted to referencing the dictionary in order to understand her.

However, it wasn’t until this particular, fateful day that we discovered our child was a universal translator with delusions of grandeur. Well, actually, according to the stories we were told, said grandeur may well have not been a delusion at all.

It seems our child – who at the age of two had a vocabulary rivaling that of a college freshman as well as the comprehension and clarity of enunciation to use it effectively – also spoke fluent “toddler gibberish.” It actually surprised us to learn that she spoke this language, because she had only studied it for two weeks before moving straight into American English. However, the wide eyed care givers at the pre-school had been witnessing it first hand, but had never made mention of it. Until this particular day when our child had elected to use the ability to her advantage.

She was sitting in a time out chair when I arrived, her tiny little brow furrowed as she plotted her revenge against the system that had placed her there.

“What did she do this time?” I asked. I wasn’t all that surprised by the time out issue because while it wasn’t a regular occurrence, I knew she could be stubborn and temperamental.

“Inciting a riot,” the teacher told me. “And attempting to escape.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you know she speaks two languages, right?”

“Ummmm. No.”

“Well she does. English and Toddler.”

“Toddler is a language?” I had to ask because I hadn’t made it to that chapter in the parenting books. For the record, and much to my surprise, yes, it is.

“Of course.”

I took the teacher at her word, but was still a bit perplexed. “So, what’s that got to do with inciting a riot?”

“Well, you see,” she explained. “Normally we use this to our advantage. When one of the other toddlers is throwing a fit, or we simply cannot understand them, we send your daughter in. She gibbers with them, then comes back to us and explains the situation in English so we can address the need or problem.”

“You’re joking…”

“No, Mister Sellars, we’re serious. She’s an immense help to us. Until today.”

Again, for the record, she was serious. “The riot, you mean?”

“Yes sir.”

“Go on.” I was still skeptical, but willing to listen.

“Well, there was a particular toy your daughter wanted to disassemble and rebuild today, but we had to put it away because it made too much noise and it was disturbing the infants.” She motioned to the nursery next to the toddler classroom.

“So, that was the riot?”

“Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head. “We explained to your daughter that the toy had to be put away but she became very agitated and demanded access to it. She kept muttering something about missing a quantum event for a temporal dilation window or something.”

I nodded. “I see.”

I could actually empathize, as I had stopped the O-spring from building a time machine on several occasions myself.

“Anyway,” the teacher continued. “When we wouldn’t comply with her demands she went over to the other toddlers, gibbered for a few minutes, and then it happened.”

“The riot?”

“Yes. Several of the toddlers formed a barrier between us and the exit and began screaming as a distraction, while your daughter directed the others to build a tower out of the large blocks. Once the blocks were in place she climbed them and opened the fire exit.”

“No way.”

“I’m serious, Mister Sellars.”

“But obviously you managed to stop her and the other kids.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t easy. Somehow she had managed to get my car keys from my purse, and if she’d been able to reach the pedals it could have been a different story…”

As I said, the O-spring doesn’t speak “Toddler Gibberish” any longer. And, of course, that was several years ago. However, her ongoing brilliance never ceases to amaze me.

More to come…

Murv

PS. Another “for the record” – While this story is obviously embellished for entertainment value, as usual, the core of it is entirely true. The O-spring really and truly did translate for the teachers at the pre-school for a period of about 1 year, which is something they found absolutely amazing and would tell us about regularly. And, one particular Autumn day she did, in fact, use that ability to incite a riot as a distraction, build a tower with help from other kids, and open the fire door.

I shit you not. My kid is freakin’ brilliant. 🙂