You know those stories your parent’s tell you of yourself when you were a kid? Well here is one my dad always told me to rationalize why he couldn’t take me anywhere. Now you see, my dad is kind of an uptight guy. Not because he has diamonds up his ass or anything, but more because he is really concerned about offending people. He is very polite, and doesn’t like to create uncomfortable situations.
So the story goes like this. One fine morning, my dad entered an elevator with his little 4-year old daughter. Now in said elevator there were three people, my dad, a stranger, and me. So, one can infer that the man in the elevator could hear everything we said to each other, and one can also deduce that it would be pretty obvious who we were talking about if we were to be talking about someone in this elevator. The elevator being full of only three people.
“Dad… what smells?”
“Shhh Toni, be quite?”
“No! But Dad…. What smells?”
“Toni… shhhhhhhhhh”
“BUT DADDY, WHAT SMELLS?”
I think this was the last time my dad took my anywhere for a few years.
Now I am racking up a few stories of my own about why I can’t take The Munch anywhere, and feeling great empathy for my father.
Lets start with Story number 1:
I brought The Munch grocery shopping at the Organic Green Grocer to get some provisions. I had $100, so I purchased two bananas and a few spinach leaves. As I was about to leave, I figured that I would go pee before getting in the car. Seems reasonable enough right? I brought Munch to the bathroom with me, locked the door, and sat down on the toilette. As the pee started to excrete from my body, The Munch opened the door. Even though it was locked, it was one of those locks where once you turn the handle, the door just opens. And then she leaves me, the door open with me on the toilet and urine pouring from my urethra as I stared into the eyes of a teenage boy stocking shelves.
Now I consider myself to be a free spirit, but seriously?
How about Story number 2:
I bring The Munch to one of my dance performances. I figured she would be okay, and sit with one of my friends as I was on stage. Everything seemed fine as we were stretching and getting ready. Munch was having fun playing around and talking to people… it was a good vibe. But the moment it became time for me to perform, The Munch sensed something was about to happen. Munch then proceeded to display the biggest tantrum in the history of the world.
“Mamma!!!!! MAMMA!! I WANT MY MAMMA! I WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU!!”
Keep in mind this was going on while everyone was looking at me, but now they weren’t just watching me wiggle my body around, but also judging me for birthing a demon. Me and my dance partner tried to continue, but Munch just got more frantic.
“MAMMA, I NEED YOU!! I WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU! STOP DANCING!!” Munch then broke free from my friend’s arms and ran up on stage and started chasing me around. At first I tried to dance around and avoid her, but her trail of tears became hazardous. So I had to pick her up and exit off the stage.
We were stuck hiding behind the curtains and Munch kept wailing and saying:
“Mamma No!! Don’t leave me! DON’T LEAVE ME AGAIN LIKE THAT!” like I was a teen mom abandoning her in a dumpster because I was late for prom.
When Munch finally calmed down I sat in the audience to support my friends for the rest of the performance. Now that she was happy and chatty again, Munch decided it was a good idea to share her endless commentary about what my dance partner was doing.
“Mamma they are dancing! Cyndal is dancing Mamma! She is on the floor. Get up Cyndal! You are going to get dirty!!! She got up Mamma! Now she is on the floor again. Noooooo Cyndal! Get up!!!!!!! Stop laying on the floor. She is spinning Mamma. She is spinning so fast. Cyndal you are going to get dizzy! Stop spinning!!!! She is jumping so high! Jump, jump, jump, jump. Mamma, Cyndal is all sweaty. She needs water!!!!”
“Yeah Munch, maybe lets stay home today…”
