Run the Bases

School Office:

One kid with a busted shoulder in P.E., and one “sicky”.

“I drank out of my mom’s coffee when she was sick,” explained the eight year-old boy with shaggy wavy hair.

When I looked up next, he was playing with a small metal colander from his backpack.

Ditto:

“Thank goodness you’re here! It’s been such a weird morning!”

Apparently my presence was somewhat helpful behind the counter. If it wasn’t someone telling us to put out potpourri for the customers, it was someone else asking for half-off wrapping paper. Pricing Coach bags and pub glasses.

PT Conference:

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Mr. V shook our hands after another relaxed and enjoyable parent-teacher conference. “Puck is a great kid. I thought my daughter was ready to arrange her marriage with him for awhile there.”

Dinner:

We sat around the kitchen, the three of us – Oxbear, Rose, and myself – conversating over homemade Trader Joe’s cheese pizza, while Oxbear butchered a pig at the sink. Well, he might as well have – pork steaks, meat juice and grease everywhere. And discussed Mongolian polygamy, polyandry in particular.

“So,” Oxbear concluded, “given the choice, you two would actually choose having multiple husbands over being one of many wives?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Isn’t that the only logical choice? On the other hand, I heard today at school that one of the former students is becoming a nun.”

“I would make a bad nun,” Rose concluded. “Plus, it would be better to have more than one husband to get all that work done, like sheep-herding and cutting down forests and stuff. I’d need a lot of husbands for that.”

“Seven’s the limit, I think.”

“I’d probably just have three, actually. And a few eunuchs to keep them in line.”

Oxbear just shook his head and laughed. “What surprises me is how unified you two are in your absurdity.”