"HELLS BELLS, WHAT'S HAPPENED TO HER PAW?" I toss the phone, and grab the cat. I thought she'd been in a fight, and then I saw the green band around her 'wrist.' An ELASTIC band, people. And we ALL know that elastic bands wrap themselves around kitty cat limbs...TWICE...when they argue. It was a kitty-cat paw ponytail.
"SETH!!! SEEEETTTTHHHHH!!!!!!" I whisper. Or maybe it was an hysterical scream. Whatever. He flew down the stairs looking about as deranged as my tone. "DID YOU PUT AN ELASTIC BAND AROUND SASSY'S PAW?!" I asked. (shrieked)
"NO. NO, I DON'T THINK I DID. OKAY, WAIT. MAYBE I DID. I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T KNOW. PROBABLY. PROBABLY, YES. OKAY, YES, I THINK SO. I THINK I DID! WHY? WHY?! IS SHE GOING TO DIE?!!! WHAT'S WRONG? I WAS JUST PLAYING WITH HER. I THOUGHT SHE COULD GET IT OFF!! WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT DID I DOOOOOO?!!!!!" He was wild eyed and psychotic looking, tormented with the possible harm he'd caused.
Now all children would do well to answer their mothers in this repentant and humble manner, as it softens a frozen heart just like butter under an armpit. It saved the boy's life.
We quickly cut the band off, and then my 'natural-man nurturing' took over. I stood there in stained nightgown, yesterday's mascara smeared up the side of my face, pointing and looking enormously credible, while I lovingly mentioned that, "SHE'LL PROBABLY LOSE HER PAW. IT'S MORE THAN LIKELY. IT'LL TURN BLACK AND PUTRID AND ROT FROM THE INSIDE OUT, OOZING PUSS AND SLOB, AND THEN SHE'LL BE A CRIPPLED CAT FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE, AND WON'T BE ABLE TO PROTECT HERSELF FROM PREDATORS...AND AAAALLLLLL BECAUSE YOU PUT A DA$% ELASTIC BAND ON HER PAW...AND YOU'RE MEAN. YOU'RE JUST PLAIN MEAN TO HER, AND YOU WILL BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE TO YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER FOR YOUR STEWARDSHIP OVER HER AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO SAY? HUH? HUH? WHAT? THAT YOU WERE PLAYING, AND HER PAW FELL OFF?! GOOD LUCK WITH THAT."
Yeah, no trauma there. I told Seth that he needed to seek forgiveness from his Heavenly Father.
That's funny, huh?....Can you say, PHYSICIAN, HEAL THYSELF?! I would imagine something close to those very words being said to me, but regarding my thinking, feeling children rather than a ball of meowing fur.
"Hmmmmmm, says here you fling insults like dung, scream rather than teach and basically have been found "wanting" as a Mother in Zion. You're mean. You're just plain mean. Don't you realize that you are given stewardship over these spirits? What are you going to tell your Heavenly Father, huh? Huh? What? That you were rearing them and their paws fell off? Good luck with that."
And so, once again, I commit to do...and be better.
Because nothing seems more shameful than holding up a handful of little people paws when I stand before my Creator.
10 comments:
yaaaaaaaaaa .... we woods are like that. Kind of like the time I told my tiny little TWO YEAR OLD Wesley that he CAN NOT TALK to those strangers (construction workers) ANYMORE ... because ONE DAY they will pull up in front of our home in a black van with tinted windows and they will HAUL you off and duct tape your mouth and bind your feet with cords that you CAN NOT get off and you will SCREAM in agony MOTHER ... MOOOOOOTHER!!!!!!!!!!! And I won't hear you, because they will have driven MILES off ... where no one can hear you. And they will cut you and you will bleed and probably die.
And THAT is why we don't talk to strangers.
Got it????
Now.... will I be held accountable for THAT one???
I think we just gotta do what we gotta do. Just make sure the paws you hold up are clean and don't have anything disgusting under the claws because they would get worms if they did.
My hell you guys are funny! Lisa, wtc? I didn't know you were this funny... I wish I could write this way, but every time I set down to the computer only slop comes out... slop that isn't funny and reeks of complaints. Seriously, all I can do is complain, but hey, Willdens are good at complaining, so maybe I should increase my talents right? Right! I totally should increase my talent of complaining... oh snap, I'm so good!
Love you doll face!
see... slop... I meant SIT down in front of the computer, not set down the computer! oy!
Sara, that "set" "sit" thing is TOTALLY a Bingham flaw! I've had to correct Ster on that for 20+ years and he STILL gets it wrong. "Dear, you SET something on a table. You SIT with your bum." Yeah, never changing. And thanks for thinking I'm funny, my dear. I think YOU'RE delightful...not the least bit whiny.
And Boo, yeah, you will. But we'll stand hand in hand with our people paws and they'll be lenient.
Brenda, you seem surprised...like you wouldn't expect a blog entry from me to mention something "seemly." Silly, silly Brenda. Lower those expectations, my dear girl.
Krista~very important, the worm suggestion. I'll first take them to be mani/pedi'd and then offer them up.
Boo, I'm still laughing about the Wood gene we've got boiling in our blood. And we mock DAD for telling gory stories about Clifton. He's got NOTHIN' on us!
Ohhhh...I'm still new to this...it was one of those ding ding moments when you said DAD telling gory stories and he has NOTHIN' on us.
Okay...I'm going to try not to be so suprised ANYMORE (can I pretend?)
Wow! This one is good...and every mother can relate. Thank goodness for teeny, tiny pre-adult brains that will later thank us for rearing them the way we did and giving them all sorts of gore and gushy nothingness to keep them on the straight and narrow way. I'm counting on offering up paws with my children right beside me offering up theirs! :) You're doing something right...I read Ash's sweet letter...he gives you all the credit. I really doubt Heavenly Father's even going to look at those paws before he lets you through the pearlys. Matter of fact, just slip them in your pocket...no one will even know! ;)
How old is Seth?
Erica~I'll bring a big, giant purse to hold all the people paws. The only way they'll know is if I have to put it on a conveyor belt, but I don't plan on flying anywhere, so it should be OK.
Joe, he's nearly 14, and he HATES that he's blog fodder. Bless is oblivious heart.
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