Moving sucks. Even when it is worth it in the end. So you have to savor those moments that make it seem less like Hell.
Bringing our final load of assorted leftover crap from the old place to the new place today, in the middle of a rainstorm, my son comes out with this gem of musing…
“Hey, Ma. Do you know that song, ‘It’s Raining Men’?”
“Yes, ” i reply, with a cocked eyebrow.
“I’m wondering, when they fall, are they whole?”
“I mean, does a man just fall from the sky, land on his feet, and say, ‘Hi. My name is Terry. I’m from Montana. I’m a Capricorn and i enjoy cooking and volunteering at the local animal shelter.’? Or do bodies just fall from the sky realistically, breaking into pieces so it makes a mess of blood and guts everywhere? ”
“You know that old joke, ‘It’s raining cats and dogs out there! I just stepped in a poodle!’? If it were raining men, would you say you stepped on a head? Or a foot? Or a butt! Oh my God! That would be funny! But then you’d be slipping everywhere on the blood and guts.”
“Can you imagine the umbrella you’d need? Body parts falling everywhere? It would have to be made out of plywood or something. Like, a Kevlar umbrella, maybe. And, man, it would suck for the street sweepers!”
“Also, how would you know it was going to rain men? Would the sky be filled with cumulonimbus clouds shaped like penises? That would be weird.”
I am silent thru this whole stream of consciousness, as i have no flipping clue as to the proper parental response. When he finally goes quiet, i relax a bit. Then…
“I hope they just fall out of the sky whole.”
Me, too, son. Me too.