Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Parent's Log, Star Date Oh-5-90

Mother - Played by Me
Son - Age 2 - Played by some spastic alien-monkey hybrid masquerading as my offspring

The scene: Wednesday Night, Dinner Table

Son (speaking through small Frankenstein toy): Where's my mommy?

Me: You don't have a mommy. You were created in a lab by a mad scientist.
Internal Monologue: I then think better of this. Perhaps one shouldn't tell one's child, even through a toy, that he is the motherless son of a crazed genius. Perhaps that's what leads to kids sucking their thumbs until they are 24, or going up on to water towers with Kalishnikovs. Perhaps in this one moment, I have just destroyed his sense of security for the rest of his life.

Son: Oh, okay. (resumes eating enchilada)


  1. Meh on the Kalashnikov. I'd go with something like this:

    But that's just me.

    And, of course, it'd be against zombies.

    And zombie fish.

  2. I know, Ace. That's why I'd be disappointed, because he chose such a sucky weapon. Also, they have that terrible high pitch when they fire that makes me feel like I'm biting into tin foil.

    Any child of mine that climbs the water tower to snipe zombies is a succes in my book. Even if he has a low grade point average. The future of humanity comes first!