Trash talk

I guess I’ll join the hoards of people lamenting summer’s imminent end. I will miss everything about summer, and I can say this without a trace of sarcasm because this time around I am not large with child, and because I now have an air conditioner that works. Oh my does it work! This has made all the difference.

To be honest though, I’m ready to say goodbye to August, even though it is and always will be a very special month to me. It’s just that August is kicking my trash. And by trash I mean butt-ox. And by butt-ox I mean that area in the rear that is supposed to cushion your coccyx bone. I happen to be void of this area though, but that is beside the point. August is no respecter of butts. It’ll kick whatever you’ve got back there.

And now I’m pretty sure Bosco is on to my lunacy. August demanded that my crazy come out and show itself, usually in very flamboyant fashion.

For example, one day (one particularly heinous day) I just started laughing for no reason at all. I have been known to do this from time to time. Well, who can resist the contagiousness of a hearty laugh? Not me and not Bosco. He started laughing right along with me. No reason required.

Then when our bellies were simmering down he asked me, “Mommy, why are you laughing?”

I answered, “Well sometimes if I’m sad or upset or annoyed it helps to laugh. It puts me in a better mood.”

He pondered on this for a moment. I thought I had just blown his mind, and managed to turn my crazy into some deep universal truth. Then he said, “Oh. That’s . . . strange.”

And now I know that he knows that I am completely cuckoo. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that cuckoo can be genetic, and he’s already showing all the signs.

Many thanks August. Until we meet again.