5.01.05: Relativity ‹ Blog « Without-Feathers.com

A family is a unit composed not only of children but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold.
Ogden Nash

Relativity

May 1, 2005

Minnesotans have a real predilection for random parades. This teensy little marching band just went down the street, followed by two little cars and a bunch of happy kids. All while it’s snowing. I love Minnesota.

A few days back, my in-laws came over, including the Smallest In-Law, which would be my niecelet. (She’s still not big enough to qualify as a niece.) I hadn’t seen them in a few months, the which they probably spent gossiping about how uncouth and inappropriate I am. With these paranoid suspicions lurking in my mind, I made it my goal to be devastatingly suave and perfect. Observe:

Mother-In-Law: These bedsheets were on sale at Wal-Mart, so I bought you two pairs. I hope you don’t mind.
Romy: Oh no, not at all, that’s great! Now I can change those two-week-old sheets on our bed without having to wash the other pair!
– long pause –
Romy’s Brain: Oh great. Now they know you suck at housekeeping. Quick, say something else.
Romy: ... not that I never wash the sheets or anything. In fact, we have to change them all the time. We go through a lot of sheets.
– long pause –
Romy’s Brain: What the hell? Quick, say something to make it sound normal.
Romy: ... not that I’m implying anything sexual.
Romy’s Brain: Dammit.
Mother-In-Law: They’re floral-patterned. I hope that’s okay.
Romy: Oh, that’s fine, it goes with our decor. Anyway, we’ll wear the flowers off soon, right honey?
– long pause –
Romy’s Brain: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. DIE NOW.

Fortunately, the Smallest In-Law, who had apparently been briefed prior to the visit about the existence of a lagomorph on the premises, chose that moment to slither from her mother’s grasp and barrel through the apartment screaming BUNNYBUNNYBUNNY at the top of her lungs. When we caught up with her, she was halfway into the rabbit cage and Charlie was trying his hardest to remain calm and dignified, but his eyes were saying WHAT THE FUCK IS THE LOUD THING GONNA DO TO ME?!

For some unknown reason, I have never gotten along well with children, and I do my damndest to avoid them whenever possible. For some other unknown reason, it always falls to me during family gatherings to be the one who chases the children around keeping them from over-stuffing or electrocuting or boiling themselves. I don’t know why people think I’m such a good candidate for this job; usually, if left to my own devices, I will shove the Small People in a closet and go on my merry way. But it’s hard to do that in your own abode, since one doesn’t want one’s in-closet items destroyed, dismembered, or reorganized.

Now, it’s a well-known fact that I have absolutely no maternal feelings, and am more inclined to spit and cook small children than to go along with their manipulative delusions. But I will admit, without being the least bit biased, that my niecelet is the most totally awesome short person on the planet. So I spent the next half-hour or so following patiently as she roamed from room to room, always ending up back at the rabbit cage (or the ottoman in the same room, which was apparently the coolest thing she’d ever seen, as she kept climbing up on it and saying “WHOA! WHOA!”) I even attempted to make conversation, something I normally never do with the Small People, as they don’t keep up with current events and are wilfully ignorant when it comes to politics.

Smallest In-Law: Bunny. My bunny.
Romy: His name’s Charlie.
SIL: Tawwee.
Romy: Do you know what bunnies like to do?
SIL: Hop. Hop hop hop! [hops]
Romy: Yes, that’s very good! Do you know what sound bunnies make?
SIL: ...
Romy: Trick question, sorry.
SIL: [points to picture of Tony] Coney.
Romy: Yes, that’s Uncle Coney. Do you like Uncle Coney?
SIL: [nods]
Romy: Yeah, so do I. Sometimes. When he’s not hogging the computer or cussing at his stocks or tailing some redneck’s ass on the highway because he thinks the guy...
SIL: ...
Romy: ... Sorry. Got carried away.
SIL: [points to picture of Tony again] Coney.
Romy: Yes, that’s Coney. Can you say Romy?
SIL: Tony.
Romy: You want a cookie? Let’s go get you a cookie. And let’s get Aunt Tony some vodka while we’re at it.

The leave-taking was protracted, in true Minnesota tradition. It was also punctuated with the Smallest In-Law’s piercing shrieks of “BUNNY! MY BUNNY!,” as she had apparently gotten it into her head that the bunny was hers for the taking. I didn’t do much to discourage this view; in fact, I offered to throw in a litterpan and a chew toy if they’d just take him off our hands. Unfortunately, SIL’s pleas went unheard, and the gang left bunnyless.

Too bad she didn’t want the cat. I think Tony and I could have smuggled Piper out to her.