Here are the things the Butcher and I think are awesome about you, Mom:
1. That you forget things all the time, especially since it still drives Dad nuts, even though you’ve always had a terrible memory. The Butcher finds this hilarious.
2. That you can go to McDonald’s, a restaurant you’ve been going to at least as long as I’ve been alive, and spend twenty minutes looking at the menu.
3. That you will, instead of fleeing from bugs and mice and other creepy wiggly things, run towards them, glass in one hand, piece of cardboard in another, to swoop them up and set them free outside.
4. That you always cry when you leave us and that the only thing that makes you smile is when the Butcher moons you and that we can now just use the threat of the Butcher mooning you to make you smile when you are down.
5. You were the only person whose discipline worked. Dad would be all like, “Goddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitching kids, you will never leave this house again because you are so horrible blah blah blah” and then twenty minutes later would be all like, “Sure, go to Indiana for the afternoon.” You would just quietly say, “It is now 9:50 on Saturday morning. You are grounded for a week. Don’t even bother to ask me to do anything until 9:50 next Saturday morning.” And you stuck by it.
6. You tried to instill a love of reading in the boys by reading them bedtime stories. Too bad they’re neanderthals*.
7. Your love of the Dairy Queen next door to your apartment complex. I love how you’ve befriended the whole staff so that you can get special concoctions not on the menu.
8. Do you remember that time when you held a sadly deformed cucumber that you’d grown in the garden and your mom was like “I can’t eat that! It looks like a penis.” and you laughed and said, “We’ll just cut it up and serve it to the men.” I was mortified at the time, but now it’s pretty funny. I also remember a certain bell pepper you claimed had a similar shape. You and your phallic garden. It tickles me.
9. And how you got right in that mountain stream to play with us and when you fell and slid down the creek, how you were crying, but you were laughing so hard that you couldn’t get back up and the three of us kids had to grab a hold of you and pull you out?
10. And how you’d climb up the tv antenna, clear to the top, to watch for your parents or in-laws, when you knew they were coming.
Happy Mother’s Day!
*Ha, I can say shit like that because I know the Butcher doesn’t read Tiny Cat Pants very often, either. Don’t be a narc, Yellow Brand Hammer Company.