Vin and I took the kids to Irvine Park to wear them out after a long day of general buttholishness, hoping lots of exercise would make them tolerable. Before you think I’m an a-hole for saying my kids are buttholish? You’ve been there. Butt out.
But that’s not what this is about, so stay with me.
As I was saying, Vin and I took our sweet children to Irvine Park to wear them out after a long day of perfectly loving family interactions that involved fireflies and unicorns. While we watched our perfectly well-behaved children play nicely with rocks and dirt, we engaged in one of our typically perfect and loving conversations. It went like this…
Me: We should be ducks. Then we could live here at Irvine Park all the time.
Vin: I don’t wanna be a duck. They stink. When I die? I want to come back as a pelican.
Me: You want to be a pelican so you can hold fish in your chin. I know – because I listen to you talk in your sleep – that you want to hold fish in your chin.
Vin: Noo! ‘Cause they have so much fun flying and gliding, and crashing into the water. Ducks don’t have fun. Ducks are dumb.
Me: I want to come back as a sea otter so I can break clams on my belly. Or oysters.
Vin: You want to come back as oysters?
Me: No, a sea otter.
Vin: I want to come back as a killer whale so I can eat otters and stuff.
Me: Eat me. And by “eat me” I mean give me a big hug.
Vin: And I’ll say, “Kat! Is that you!? Okay, I’ll just eat all the other ones.”
Me: Good thing, ‘cause I was coming back as a Japanese fisherman to harpoon your ass.
Vin: Then I’ll come back as Japanese so I can sumo wrestle you ’til you’re dead.
Me: Then I’ll come back as a Kamikaze.
Vin: Then we’ll both be dead. Then what?
Me: Then ‘ll come back as a duck and live at Irvine Park.