Can everybody have p-nuts?

By now, I should have learned this lesson, the one about asking more questions before I respond to Maya's inquiries. OK, truth is that this is an old story, but it's true and the subject matter came up recently and I laughed out loud, yeah, at my OWN story.

Many years ago, Maya very innocently asked me "Gigi, can ANYONE have p-nuts?" I thought, man, this is an easy one. Finally, I get a question that I can answer without fear of "over answering". Whew, I might have actually taken the back of my hand and wiped sweat off my brow (like they do in the movies, when they are in a tight spot).

If you have read my blog, or heard anything about Maya's questions, you understand the total relief I felt in getting what seemed to be -- an EASY question.

OK, back to the story, I confidently said to Maya, "yes, baby, ANYONE can have p-nuts". Not satisfied, Maya asked for clarity saying "girls AND boys?" At this point, I thought - Uh Uh (actually I thought about some language much worse than uh uh, but this is a family friendly blog)

At this point, I backtracked and asked for more information. I asked in the most super calm voice that I could summon -- "who told you about these p-nuts?" And here we go, down the rabbit hole. Maya says -- this girl told me that only boys have p-nuts and they keep them in their pants. Yeah, you know what I'm thinking -- Why is Paris Hilton or her 7 year old mini me, in Maya's summer camp?

Typically in my stories, I have multiple "freeze frame" moments, where I have to tell you what I'm thinking to keep you in the loop. I usually have those moments when I'm stumped, puzzled and straight out stunned. Dealing with Maya, I have LOTS of these freeze frame moments, like NOW. I'm wondering how I can steer this wild bronco of a conversation back into the barn. I know that it's not time to have "that talk" but how do I satisfy her curiousity without wrecking the car? I'm also wondering how I can duct tape the mouth of this little girl who knows way too much.

Now, that I can talk again, I clear my throat and say to Maya " You know, baby, there are words that sound alike and I kinda mixed up some words here. I thought you were asking about PEANUTS and that's why I said that anyone and everyone can have PEANUTS. But, ONLY boys can have a PENIS (p-nuts) and they should DEFINITELY keep it in their pants. Girls should not be talking about penis (peni as the plural?), because that's a private part. Just like boys shouldn't be talking about vaginas, cause that's a private part too.

I quickly steered the conversation (and the car) back onto the road and changed the subject to something safe, or at least I THINK so. We shall see....

Grand Theft Auto? Bonnie? Say It Ain't So!

If you know my sister Sandy, you already know that she is the Queen of Doing Right, right? OK, that's what I thought until this past Saturday, when I learned that she almost went up the river (or is is "down the river").

Here's "her" version of the story. After a long day of shopping and acquiring, Bonnie and Renata were desparate to find a nail shop that did eyelashes. This was to be the LAST STOP before they went home. The trunk is full, the back seat is full and they, too are full. The only problem is that their regular nail shop was full of clients so they decided to stop at one of the other 500 shops that lay between them and the house. After stopping at 9 or so shops, they were both fed up, but decided to try "just one more". Many of the shops didn't do eyelashes or were also swamped, so when they found one, they were thrilled.

The nail tech started on Renata first so Bonnie decided to go out to the car. She took the keys and stepped right outside the door and "click click" went the remote. She did the logical thing and got into the grey Camry and closed the door.

She's tired, but immediately noticed that the entire back seat is clear. Her first thought was - I swear she said this - wonder when Renata had time to clear the back seat. Keep in mind that she had been with Renata like a siamese twin for 7 days! Then she looked at the console and noticed that NONE of the crap that Renata usually stored there - was there. It was absolutely clear. At this point, she looks over at the car next to her, which is ALSO a grey Camry. Only then did she realize that she was in the WRONG CAR!

In a bonafide baby panic, she slides out of the car and casually steps back onto the sidewalk and into the shop. I'm not sure what kind of nail service the owner of that car was having performed, but clearly, it involved having her eyes covered and/or poked out. She also must have been very naive, because I have a habit of checking out my car when I can see it from a shop/store. When I see someone ELSE sitting in MY car, I tend to go about checking that crap out, you know?

Anyway, when the swat squad didn't tackle Bonnie upon re-entering the shop, she then proceeded to go BACK out again and try to enter the right car. (In some circles, this is called returning to the scene of the crime.) Anyway, she got whatever the heck she wanted out of the car and went back inside (again).

Now, ya'll know the REAL DEAL, Bonnie has a little teeny weeny bit of thug in her. Nice on the outside -- potential grand theft auto person on the inside.

Moral of this story -- when you are in a shop, periodically check your car out to see if Bonnie (or anyone else) is in it.

Moral #2 -- If you are looking for a better car...I'm just sayin'

One Boob or Two?

Some of you may have heard this story before, but I got tickled about it today and had to share.

Maya was in the backseat of my car and asked me (what I perceived to be) a provocative question. She asked me what a boob was.

Here I was thinking -- Where (and why) is she hearing this stuff? Who is talking about boobs to her and why are they doing that? Why won't they stop? When I find said person, should I hurt them? A myriad of questions ran through my mine and I decided to take the high road. Time for a lesson in anatomy.

I explained how "boob" was a word that people used to describe breasts. I expanded on that to say that it was not a nice word and that she needed to be sure and use the "right" word and that I didn't think that nice girls used that word. On and on I went, extolling the virtues of using the right words and avoiding the wrong words.

I finally took a breath and Maya said "Hey Gigi, why would the girl on TV call her brother a boob?" That's when I realized that I should have asked for more information. It would have saved the "boob" talk for later.

I learned my lesson though. When Maya asked me today if I thought it would be ok if Chance (Jamylle's live dog) and her life size (stuffed) dog could "mate", I almost slammed into a tree and then I reminded myself to ask a (calm) follow up question. I said "what do you mean by mate?" She giggled and said, "You know, Gigi, mate means to be girlfriend and boyfriend and go on dates." Before I turned blue from holding my breath, I exhaled and said "Sure, baby, maybe they can mate."

Whew!

Hey Garlin'

Mama always KNEW when we needed her. There were times when I was sick or just plain sad and Mama would call and ask how I was doing and before the end of our conversation, I just felt better. Maybe not great, but certainly better. Somehow, she just KNEW.

So, when she died, there was a gaping hole. So much so, that in the days after her death, I didn't want to be alone, I didn't want to think too hard about who and how to fill that hole. So, I found myself "needing" company. Me and Renata, Me and Maya, Me and Alex, but rarely just me. I didn't want to be alone.

This was one of those "me and Renata" trips. We were in the car, and Maya happened to be in the back seat. Renata and I were having one of those conversations that don't require thinking -- we were just talking to fill the empty space. When, out of the blue, Maya said "Hey Garlin".

Cue slo mo. Renata and I looked at each other to confirm that we had both heard what we heard. We looked to confirm that it wasn't a bad dream, that we hadn't just misunderstood what 4 year old Maya had just said.

Let me explain. When any of us called Mama on the phone, her usual response was "Hey Darlin". She said it so sweetly that it disarmed you. Even if you called to fuss a little bit, that "hey darlin" just moved you to a whole 'nother place. Mama's "hey darlin" was the sweetest sound that I imagined. It was so sweet that when I couldn't hear it from her, I imagined her whispering it in my ear. So, it was with total shock and surprise, that Renata and I both realized that Maya, in her baby-speak, had just voiced Mama's very personal greeting.

Back to the car incident. We didn't say anything for a while, we just looked at each other and then looked away. I'm not sure which one of us finally got the nerve to risk sounding crazy by saying "Did you hear that? Did she say that?" At that momemt with no prompting, she said it again.

Hey Garlin'

We didn't tell anyone because we didn't need to tell anyone. That message was just for us, because we needed to hear it. For the next few days, intermittenly, like windshield wipers on the slowest speed, Maya would say "Hey Garlin". Having moved from shock to acceptance, we simply smiled, then as quickly as she started saying "Hey Garlin", she simply stopped.

We asked her, even begged her to repeat the greeting. We'd say, "Say it, Maya, say Hey Darlin", then we resorted to "Hey Garlin" and she'd give us that blank look that every baby gives when they just don't get it. No more "Hey Garlin"s came forth, but that's when we realized that we didn't really need them anymore.

Just like Mama. She gave us what we needed when we needed it most. In death, just like in life, Mama knew when we needed her and she was there for us. Then she was gone.

Goodnight, Garlin'

The "N" word - revisited with kiddies - read and learn

Here I am in my regular position as chauffeur to the kids, really, they are really more like young ladies. Any-who, I'm up in front driving the little Miss Daisies. In this adventure, it's Maya and Ciara.

Always ready to tune in to the back seat drama, I almost lost it when Maya says, "Gigi, a boy at my school said the "n" word." Poor little Ciara chimed in with "What's that?" Maya, ever the smart mouth (being older and all, at 8 as opposed to Ciara's 6) responded with "Nothing you need to know."

Ciara was NOT about to be outdone. She said "I know what it is"

Maya replied "Whatever you do, don't say it, but you can spell it."

Time out -- I KNOW that I should have stopped them, but I was curious, that they were even HAVING this conversation at ages 6 and 8. You may think that YOU would have stopped them, but you wouldn't have - trust me. Back to the story.

Ciara clears her throat and starts to spell.

"N" she said loudly and I started to interject something about inappropriateness, then I heard the next letter.

"U", "T', "H", "E","A", "D".
Yeah, she had spelled NUTHEAD.

NOW was the time for that the speech about inappropriateness. We talked about name calling and how we shouldn't do that at any time to anyone. I think that Maya really knew the whole truth, but she also knew that we needed to let the story end....right....there.

Out of the mouth of babes...

Don't Pit On Yo Mama

Remember those family functions that lasted all day and included so many people that in some way or another were related to you, but you didn't know even one third of them? These events mostly occurred around holidays (or funerals), but there was always lots of food and lots of family.

It was at one of these shin-digs (I'm finding myself using these old lady words recently) that I found myself. I was holding my then six month old baby girl. Oh, I was so proud of Marixa and I was taking every precaution to be sure that she was well taken care of. I had AT LEAST 6 cute outfits in her diaper bag and I may have even squeezed in a few diapers (LOL). I had pacifiers, burp cloths, etc. etc. You name it - I had it in that diaper bag.

Anyway, one of Maya's very, very distant cousins was talking to her as I had her perched on my shoulder. At 6 months, MAYA was slobbering all over the place, but when it's YOUR baby, that's cute slob, so I had placed a cute little "burp cloth" on my shoulder to catch most of it.

What I didn't count on was her 4 year old little cousin's abrupt reaction to Maya's slobbering. When I knew anything, she hollered out "DON'T PIT ON YO MAMA" and promptly slapped my 6 month old baby! It wasn't a hard slap, but a slap none the less. (Cue slo mo) I was in shock, wondering how bad it would be for me to slap this 4 year old. As I sat there looking at this future prison warden, I realized that she was trying to do her best to help me out, but dang, it was still my 6 month old baby.

I decided to NOT slap this little girl, but I gave her a serious case of the stank eye. Word to the wise, keep your babies up high. Let them admire them from afar.

Fast forward, I really do think that the 4 year old in question, is currently working in the prison system. That chick had started her training 25 years ago. If she continued her "training" (as I think she might have), she is probably slapping those criminals straight into next week!

Cheerleader Legs - Pass 'Em On!

When Maya and Joy are in the back seat of the car, there is no lack of conversation. Although I often have the radio on in front, I always have one ear trained to the rear seat conversing. I can never predict what the topic will be. As an example, last week brought conversations about the National Anthem with talk of some changes (Oh, say can you pee? That cracked them up).

At one point, I heard Maya say "Yeah, I have cheerleader legs. Got 'em from my mom. She was a cheerleader." I just couldn't resist adding something here (mainly cause you just don't many opportunities to add this), so I said "Hey, Gigi was a cheerleader too!". Maya didn't skip a beat when she added "OK, if you were a cheerleader, you can pass on the cheerleader legs too." I thought, hey, no problem, so I agreed. There was a moment of silence.

Then Maya said "OK, I'm ready"

"For what?" I asked.

"For you to pass the cheerleader legs" she said simply.

"I don't know how" (this was the truth)

"Just say it"

"Say what?"

"Pass it"

OK, I thought, if it's that simple, I'll bite, so I said "Pass it"

Another moment of silence as if the transfer needed a minute to soak in.

Then, perfectly satisfied that she had been imbued with the cheerleader leg gene, Maya smiled, turned to Joy and said, "When I grow up, I'll pass these cheerleader legs on to you."