Last night, I had to take Mr F and Mr Bunches to get the final present for Sweetie's Birthday Month; her birthday is actually November 2, but we begin celebrating it on October 31, and continue until, oh, about December 10 or so (when we begin giving her Christmas presents, instead.) The Birthday Month includes movies and a stay in a hotel and lunch and things like that, and also requires lots of presents.
Because we were heading out before bathtime, I went upstairs to get ready and took both Mr F and Mr Bunches into my room with me. But that got them upset because they think that going upstairs right after dinner means bath, not watch Daddy put on a sweatshirt and grab his iPod.
So they got all crabby and pouty and were fighting and crying and generally moping and I didn't want them to stay that way; to fix it, I did what I always do in that situation: I sang the first two lines of song 31 All I Want Is You, by Barry Louis Polisar:
It worked; it worked because Mr F loves that song and loves when I sing it (especially because after I sing those two lines, I do a guitar part, going "barowm bap bap bap bup bup barowm" (well, it sounds like a guitar when I do it) and it worked because Mr Bunches is amazed that I sing, period.
It also worked later when I sang it to them in the department store to keep them calm because I'd run out of cookies. I think the other shoppers liked it, too.
Down... to go is stories based around songs on my iPod -- of which I now have 9,029. Read about Song 30 here. Got more time? Why not read why I fear I'm not smart enough to live my own life anymore?
Balding:
Did you know a short horror story of mine, Don't Eat My Face, will appear in the upcoming anthology "Harvest Hill," available next fall from Graveside Tales? Go to their site to find out more and order your copy! And don't forget to read my other horror stories on AfterDark.
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