they're coming to take me away, oh yeah!

When I was a kid and my brother was an even littler kid and we were less than perfect I think we drove my mom a little nuts from time to time. I know we did, because she said we did. I don't know how, we were generally so angelic. We didn't do things like dump dry cheerios on the kitchen floors in the wee hours of the morning to make an ice rink, or push each other in the ditches full of water or yell and scream or fight in the car or spill bowls of cereal and watch the milk drip through the cracks in the table. We certainly didn't sneak chocolates a little by little until the entire box was empty in the cupboards. Nor did we dare each other to eat raw eggs. I know I didn't make my brother accidentally swallow a dead worm once.

I know we didn't. Because we were generally perfect.

My kids are "perfect" too. They're perfectly kids. Now I know why my mom would sometimes say (a little angrily, odd that) "You're going to send me to the mental!" We knew it could happen too, because there was a kid at school whose mom had an episode and ended up in "the mental." Surely, it could happen to anyone, and kids who filled syringes (for the cattle) full of water and used them to squirt water at each other in the kitchen before our parents came home could definitely end up sending Mom to the mental. Good thing we didn't do that.

Sometimes I joke about the mental. Not with my kids, but with my own mom. I tell her I'd love to go to the mental sometime. I'd pack an iPod and a couple of books and happily head off to the mental. Imagine, clean white sheets, no puke on my shirt or pants full of poop to wash out (they have nurses for that). No milk dripping through the cracks on the table. I could read more than a page and a half at a time, dabble in some nice calming medicines, watch daytime TV (do you think I could get my own TV?) and maybe eat my dinner hot.

I wouldn't want to go long term, maybe just for a weekend.

They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa.
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa.
To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy
to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're coming
to take me away, ha-haaa!!!
To the happy home, with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket
weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes and they're
coming to take me away, ha-haa!!!
To the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time...

Comments

Q&L said…
i think you need a phone call today.
August 30, 2010 at 9:10 AM
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