Old Posts

I was reading some old posts, most of which I completely forget writing, and I came across one about memory loss. Pretty ironic, right? I thought I would share with you my realization That I now have the memory of a goldfish. The other day I reheated my coffee, in the Microwave for 22 seconds. When the timer sounded, I stood there utterly perplexed and asked, "Who put what in the microwave?" Yup, goldfish, which then reminded me it had been quite Some time since I fed the goldfish.

The Dead Dog Is Hysterical

It turns out that the boy has quite the imagination, and I learned about it in such a way that struck me like a Shirley Jackson "Charlie" moment. He has really had me fooled all these years. Let me first give you the picture:

Then the situation:
So, the boy shared with his teacher and his first grade classmates the heart-wrenching story that his beloved dog was dying. There were tears and prayers and everything. And this picture. How terribly sad... a first grade boy losing his loyal companion, the one that spent every moment at the boy's side. Apparently, the dog had eaten all of the candy and became horribly ill. Even worse, the dog was unconscious on the kitchen floor when we left for school, leaving the children to fear that the dog would probably be dead by the time we returned home in the afternoon. He even drew this picture to deal with his overwhelming grief. Are you crying yet?

Here are the problems:

1. We don't have a pug, and we never will. I have no patience for that constant snorting. Please.
2. Our dog didn't eat any candy.
3. He's not on the kitchen floor unconscious. Never was. Has never even had the consideration to get sick on the kitchen floor. As a matter of fact, if he were to be anywhere unconscious and dying, he would purposely lie down on the carpet in front of my bedroom door so that as I stumble out of my room  in a groggy haze to wake the kids for school, I will step in the mess he leaves behind.
4. I know I have a raisin heart, but I would never leave a dying dog on my kitchen floor, cart the kids off to school, and tell them he would be dead when we come home. I am cruel, but I'm not Mommy Dearest cruel.
5. Here's the biggest problem: the dog is perfectly healthy.

How did I find out about this? My son's teacher stopped me out of the blue to tell me she was so glad the dog was okay. Here's the conversation:
Teacher: "We are all so relieved the dog is okay."
Me: "What dog?"
Teacher: "Bubby told us all about your dog and how he almost died."
Me: "The dog almost died? What?" (I was taken off guard so seriously that I couldn't even play along. And I was desperately searching my mind for any conversations we may have had about the dog's age, his counter-surfing, his obnoxious barking at anything that moves--did we comment that he won't be around much longer if he keeps it up?) 
Teacher: "When he ate all the candy..."
Me: "Bubby ate all the candy?"
Teacher: "No, the dog." (She must have thought I was an idiot and a horrible person. Imagine her working up the courage to mention this to me after the boy had told her I left the dying dog alone on the kitchen floor.)
Me: "Our dog is perfectly fine."
Teacher: "But Bubby told us..."
Me: "I will get to the bottom of this."

It was the next day that I found the picture in Bubby's desk, had a conference with the teacher, and learned all of the disturbingly hysterical details of our imaginary dog's demise. That teacher must have thought I was the worst mother in the world. How awful of me to leave the helpless animal on the floor and tell the kids he'd be dead when we came home! Oh, I am so mean--no wonder the boy wants to please me so much--I'm a witch.

I can't stop laughing about the whole thing. Maybe he'll write some good books some day.

I'm keeping the illustration forever. I'm going to frame it and show it to his children some day. This is why I became a parent--moments like this make it all worth it.

By the way, our dog is not a cross between a centipede and a canine anyway.