Little Lucas at Ruby’s daycare ran enthusiastically into his dad’s arms and melted. “Daddy, park! Daddy, park!” I spy Ruby out of the corner of my eye, skulking towards me. “HI HONEY!” I say in my happiest Mom voice. “LUCAAAAS” she cries, and immediately (and with fee-wing) throws herself on the floor. I wonder, in a flash, if I could send her home with Lucas. For dinner? Perhaps an overnight. Maybe the summer.
“Would you like to push the stroller?” No.
“Would you like to ride in the stroller?” No.
“Would you like to walk?” Nonono.
“Would you like me to carry you?” No.
Run? No. Skip? No. Prance like a stallion? Waddle like a penguin? Slither like a snake? No. No. No.
At this point, we have moved to the sidewalk outside daycare.
“Would you like to stay here while I run screaming into the nearest bar? I’ll be back soon, I promise.” No.
The walk home took more than 30 minutes. We live 2 blocks away. I alternately carried Ruby, the stroller, her “homework” papers, her jacket, her shoes and socks (which she took off en route), all while she was screaming and crying about something unintelligible that we clearly couldn’t discuss.
About halfway home I decided that rather than stroll or walk or carry or cajole or bribe Ruby home, I would instead shove her into a meat grinder and make little Ruby-sausages. Then I figured I better not blog about that, because I had to be the only person who would actually consider making sausage out of their child. That is, until I realized if I added fancy things to her like lemongrass and edible tulips that I could probably sell my Ruby-sausages at Eastern Market and make enough money to buy an entirely NEW child. Maybe I’ll get one of those Basenji kinds, the ones that don’t make any noise.
I could advertise the sausages on the MoTH listserv and women would stop by clucking “Aww, those Fannings just couldn’t make it with little Ruby. She was really cute too. I bet she’s tasty!”
Ruby Sausages. They SCREAM all the way through dinner!
She’s having pasta with Daddy now. He walked in and the sun shone a different way somehow. Gone is troll-Momma, Daddy’s here! Little does he know that we’re having Ruby sausage for breakfast. If he’s not careful we’ll have a side of Shaun.