The Clap

Visiting Grammy, there is a whole mish-mash of toys scattered around.  Some retro oldies that belonged to me, mostly garage sale stuff and clean items from the recycle bin. Lots of stuffed animals and dolls, everything dragged around and dropped anywhere.  Too many toys to even focus on or play with, really.

One of Grammy’s church lady friends came over.  She asked a few times, which of these toys was Lucy’s favorite?  I didn’t really answer, because like I said:  sea of endless crap everywhere.  She kept picking up random toys: “Is this her favorite?”  Until she picked up a stuffed animal and smiled at it, kind of cocking her head to figure out what it was supposed to be, and then she threw it in horror with an “Oh!”  I looked at my sister.  Um… who gave that to the baby?

Who let the baby play with the Venereals?

Luckily, Herpes was lying dormant under the  couch.  And Chlamydia and Syphilis were inactive (offsite at the siblings’). And the less-bawdy Epstein-Barr’s (Kissing Disease) gets cuddles at my niece’s house.  I had purchased the whole line of venereals one Christmas, and with careful consideration had assigned each disease to a particular family member who shared some trait with the malady.  With this sort of rationale: Herpes–> Sounds like Hair Piece–> Bald father could use a hair piece.  And so on.

They’ve been kind of collecting dust on shelf, until, no doubt, the baby spotted them and began pointing and “ooo-ooo”-ing for it.  And that’s how you end up with a baby clapping for the Clap, and a church lady picking up Gonorrhea.



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