Easter Bunny

I was a gullible child. I mean, SUPER gullible. I believed in Santa Claus until 6th grade. I was almost 12 years old one Christmas day, when I started thinking about him. I was looking at a radio/cd player the big man had left for me and it dawned on me. There was NO WAY a single person could get around the world, visiting every single house along the way, in one night. Or fit down chimneys. Plus, reindeers can't fly. My realization was solidified when oldest sister came down the stairs and saw me looking at my present. She asked "who'd you get that from, Santa?" She smiled and walked away. Life got much less magical after that day.

There was a day, sometime close to Easter when I was a bit younger, before I had the magic completely ripped from my life, that little sister and I were looking for something. I have no idea what we were looking for, but we were having a hard time finding it. As anyone with a mother (or wife) does, we decided to ask Momma if she knew where the item was.

That was a much harder task than one might think. Especially because Momma was reading a book. I remember times that I actually had to put my hand in from of the words she was reading to get her attention. On this occasion, I used a method some might recognize from a popular animated youtube clip. This was way before the clip, mind you, but I don't have any difficulty imagining where they got the inspiration.

I don't know why I took such a risk. Momma and Pappa's closet was usually off limits. Especially around holidays. I knew this, yet I still suggested we look in it. Had I only known...

Little sister and I found a paper grocery bag FULL of candy. How did I not connect the two? One would think I would have seen it, and that Easter + bag of hidden candy = NO EASTER BUNNY. I wonder how many lies people told me that I believed without thinking twice.

It didn't click. So like the naive little child I was, I ran off to inform my mom of the hidden treasure. Because, ya know, obviously she didn't know about it.

To clarify. Momma is one of the coolest, most laid back, nicest people one could meet. So us children must have been especially annoying on the given day. That would also explain why the book was being read. It would have been a way to escape the spastic children, without leaving the house.

Oh....

Dad-in-law VS. Hammer

My in-laws live on a small farm. 

For a few summers Br., W., and I lived with them. During one of the summers, my Dad-in-law was working on building a shed in the backyard. 

He was working by himself. For some odd reason, he thought it would be ok to leave his hammer on top of the ladder.

Then he forgot about it, and tried to move the ladder.

Bad. Idea.

W. and I were inside with sister-in-law one, her husband, and their two daughters; fuzz head, and unimpressed.   Br. was at work. We were all enjoying a movie when Dad-in-law came in and sat down. We all just assumed he was joining our little party.

Then we found out...

...We were very wrong. 

Dad-in-law had a scout meeting, and knew that if he went to the emergency room, he would miss it. So instead, using his ingenuity, decided to have sister-in-law one stitch it up for him! I was feeling rather grossed out. Sister-in-law one's husband grew up in a house full of boys. He wasn't phased by the situation at all. Apparently, his mother was quite practiced in stitching people back together. 

I am still puzzled as to why we thought it was a good idea to heed the request of a man who just got hit in the head with a hammer.

After several minutes of studying a certain stitch on youtube, practicing by drawing on a napkin,  numbing dad-in-law's head with an ice cube, and sterilizing I believe dental floss in some hydrogen peroxide, it began. Luckily, W. decided it was the perfect time to eat. I don't know how sister-in-law one did it. The thought of shoving a needle through someone's flesh, and dragging "thread" through it, kinda makes me want to vomit.






While I was in my room nursing W., I got a phone call.






Lucky for me, mom-in-law had been trying to call dad-in-law. When she couldn't get through to him, she decided to give me a call. She asked me if dad-in-law was sleeping, and if that was why he wasn't picking up his phone. For some reason, I couldn't think of a way to say "I know why he wasn't answering, but I'll let him explain when you get home." Instead, I told her what had happened.

As you can imagine, she was not all that pleased with my tale. They happen to have insurance. Insurance which would have covered the trip to the ER, and made sure the wound was cleansed and properly sutured.






I tried to make W. eat faster. I wanted him to be done so I could warn the others. But, being a baby, he took his own sweet time. He finished just as mom-in-law was pulling into the driveway. I ran out to warn my comrades. It was too late for dad-in-law. He was in the bathroom checking out his patched head. I only had time enough to warn sister-in-law one and her husband.






As soon as I had finished speaking, mom-in-law came through the door. She simply asked "where is he?" If you like, you can read that in a Batman kind of voice. It might be more accurate.






We waited as the poor, helpless, wounded gazelle was devoured by the lioness.