This is how my evening goes.
I buy my kids pizza for dinner because I’m a crappy mom and then we have Coke to drink because I’m really a crappy mom. I should also mention I have let them play Minecraft together for EIGHT BILLION HOURS. Key word: “together.”
So I’m in the kitchen with G and he’s petting the cat and says “this is a great cat.” And then, somewhat randomly, “he was born and raised on the streets of Ohio.”
And I start laughing and we say “in your day, in Ohio? We didn’t have none of this ‘litter’ business or any of this ‘kibble’ you all have these days, no. We used to HUNT. And poop on the STREET.”
And the fact is that Spotlight was actually mailed from a kill shelter in Ohio out to Maryland to avoid him getting, you know, killed, which is how we got him, the one lone jet black kitten in the back of his cage, sleeping in his litterbox.
Because, you know, Ohio.
And this goes on and we’re at the table eating our pizza (or they’re eating their pizza and I’m having a sandwich) and drinking our Coke, and we’re talking about the diamond mines in Russia and L will say something and we’ll say “that’s because you weren’t born. On the streets. Of Ohio.”
“Where were we born,” she wants to know and I said “not on the streets of Ohio, dog,” and then finally I relent because we can’t stop laughing and I tell her they were both born at Kaiser Permanente Santa Clara and Grandma was there both times, and stuff.
Then out of nowhere L says “so there was this owl.” And G and I stop laughing and talking about Ohio long enough to listen and she continues, “And it was shot in the head. And it’s recovering.”
G was taking a drink at this particular moment, which is how Coke came to be spat out all over the tablecloth with the giraffes, and I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe, and we’re trying not to, and she’s going “what??? what?????” and finally we calm down and apologize and I tell her to continue.
And G is just taking another sip when she goes “anyway, so there was this OTHER owl…”
And Coke got spat all over the table again and L flees the table in a tantrum because G and I can’t stop laughing.
And G gets up to go apologize and comfort her but on the way he says to me: “that owl was from the streets of Ohio… he ran into some rough times there.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a hard place, ask the cat. He knows.”