Were You a Booker on Dr. Seuss’ Birthday?

And now a scene from “Driving Home From Target:  A Suburban Mom Documentary”:

Ultra G:  Do you think the water’s going to be cold at swimming tomorrow?”

Me:  Not sure, honey.  It’s heated, but it is February.

Super A:  It’s March, Mom.

Me:  That’s what I meant.  It’s March.  And it’s cold.  And I just want a car with heat on the driver’s side so my hands won’t turn blue.

(Insert silence and children looking at one another.)

Ultra G:  Yeah, okay.  But do you think the water will be cold?

Me:  Probably, but you’ll be fine.

Sweet Pea:  Mom, look at that man on the bike.

Me:  Yes, honey, I see him.

Ultra G:  Why is he going so slow in the middle of the road?  Look, he’s waving his arms at that truck.  What’s he doing?

Me:  He’s having a special moment.  Stop staring.

(insert silence)

Me:  Stop pointing too, please.

Super A:  Is he one of Dad’s clients?

Ultra G:  (stage whisper to Super A) If he isn’t, he should be.  He has issues.

(Meanwhile, in the middle of the intersection, said issue-laden bicyclist is pedaling so slowly that traffic is at a standstill.)

Sweet Pea:  Look, there he goes.  Good for you, Mr. Bike Man, you learned how to ride a two-wheeler.  (Insert clapping as the bicyclist moves from the intersection to the side of the road.)

30-seconds later…

Ultra G:  Look, Mom, a dog!  Is he lost?

Me:  No, I think the man halfway down the block with the joint cigarette in his mouth is his irresponsible owner.

Super A:  You sure?  Maybe we should stop.

Me:  Honey, he’s okay.  Look, the man whistled to him.

Super A:  Yeah, but the dog didn’t stop.  Oh, wait, now he did.  He sure is barking.  I don’t think we should foster him; he looks unstable.

Me:  I agree.

A minute later…

Sweet Pea:  Mommy, look, that girl doesn’t have clothes on!

Me:  Holy cow, put some clothes on, woman.  No one wants to see your fanny.  Sweet Pea, you are NEVER. ALLOWED. TO. WEAR. A. SKIRT. THAT. SHORT.  E.V.E.R.  Do you understand me?!

Sweet Pea:  Um, yeah.

Ultra G:  Why do they make skirts like that?

Me:  For hookers.  (insert mental kick to the side of my own head)

(Insert giggling.)

Super A:  (stage whisper to Ultra G) What’s a booker?

Ultra G:  (stage whisper to Super A) I don’t know.  I thought she said looker.

Super A:  Mom, did you say booker?

Me:  No, I said….nevermind.

Ultra G:  (Stage whisper to Super A) I think it was booker.  Maybe it’s someone who likes to read a lot.  What does that have to do with a skirt?

Super A: (Stage whisper to Ultra G) I don’t know.  It makes no sense to me.

(Insert wait at traffic light)

Sweet Pea:  Look!  There’s the booker!  Whoa, baby, that girl needs to put some pants on.

Me:  (Insert silent prayer for the light to change)

Light changes.  2 minutes later…

Super A:  Hey, look that guy has a pink backpack!  Why is he wearing a pink backpack?

Me:  Maybe that’s all he had.

Sweet Pea:  Maybe he likes pink.

Ultra G:  That’s a cool backpack though.  You could carry a lot of Nerf guns in there.

(Insert blissful silence…for 30 seconds as we turn onto our street and park the car.)

Sweet Pea:  Mommy?

Me:  Yes?

Sweet Pea:  Do you think that booker was going to the library?

Me: (Lightly banging forehead against cold steering wheel)  Yes, I bet the booker was going to the library.

Super G:  That’s good.  Because today is Dr. Seuss’ birthday, you know.  It’s good to be a booker on Dr. Seuss’ birthday.

End scene.

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