My daughter the horrormeister

(I am not going to write about snow. I am not going to write about snow. I am NOT going to write about the fact that I saw snow falling from the sky today because that is EXACTLY what the snow would WANT me to do.)

Every night we read three books to Buttercup as part of her bedtime ritual. My Hot Shot Husband - who is a secret speed reader - will sometimes endear himself as the BEST bedtime reader by reading The Lorax and Cat in the Hat and Ulysses. I'm more likely to push for three little board books. And yet somehow, he always accomplishes the bedtime story thing in about 2/3 the time it takes me.

Maybe Little Bee spends more time talking with me. I'll have to spy on them to see what the difference is.

Last night, we were reading Dora's Spooky Halloween, which features our young heroine trying to decide on a costume. It's a struggle with which we are painfully familiar here at Chez Bookish.

In the story, Dora scores a witch hat from a scarecrow. We read the story three times (no that is not cheating), and each time Bee grew progressively more anxious about the scarecrow.

"I don't like scarecrows," she told me. "They wave all around and flap outside my window."

FUCK! AAAAAIIIIIIIIGHHHHHHH!!

That shit it terrifying. Scarecrows flapping outside your window? Criminy.

This morning, we were driving to school, and she started talking about her dreams.

"Last night, I had a dream and I can tell you what it was because it isn't a secret and in the dream there were underpants in the potty and a SHARK. ATE. THEM. There were sharks in the potty."

That may not seem so scary to you and me. Sharks in the potty, hahahaha. Knock, knock - Toilet shark!

But our little girl has just in the past month decided that the potty is a trustworthy place to leave her precious poop. And now there are sharks in there? Eating underpants?

Blame my daughter if you find yourself unable to sleep tonight, hounded in your fitfull attempts at slumber by flapping scarecrows and toilet sharks.

HI, MY NAME IS DORCAS

So I went yesterday for my big college interview. The school is about 2 hours from my home, so I set out in the morning, sure to give myself plenty of time for inevitable mishaps along the way.

I was so ahead of schedule that I decided to stop into Macy's and look for a pair of boots that would match the outfit I was wearing. Luck was on my side, and I found exactly what I wanted, and they were even on sale.

Go me.

I got to the campus with plenty of time to spare, so I scoped out the college bookstore. That's where I realized my new boots were snagging the threads of my skirt's hem, so that with every step I was either pulling my skirt in an awkward fashion around my calves, or I was ripping out the hem.

Lovely.

I ducked into the ladies room to remedy the problem. And while I was in there, I figured it would be the perfect time to have an utter effing mental breakdown over my hair. Up or down? Half up? Which style would better show off the giant blemish that erupted on my chin two days earlier?

Why did I wear a jacket? A red jacket? Holy crap, I looked like I was wearing a horse-riding costume, which was especially unfortunate given the fact that the college is in a town whose economy is largely driven by horse-related tourism.

What was I thinking? And why did I think I should - or COULD - go back to school in the first place?

It was pretty grisly. I texted Lila.

"I'm about to go into my interview. Wish me lots of luck. It's not easy to fool college officials."

She responded right away.

"Sure it is! Good luck."

She was right. The advisers were very nice, and the interview was even fun. Halfway through the interview, we were trading jokes about Episcopalians.

I'll find out for sure whether I've been accepted in the next few weeks. In the meantime, I've been assigned the task of deciding what to call my major, and whether it falls more under the auspices of communications, business, non-profit management or what.

On the way out, I stopped back into the bookstore and bought a coffee mug with the college motto on it. So when you think about it, I've got the coffee mug. Do I really even need the degree now?

Comments

[ppb]

sharks in the potty is a very scary premise indeed.
and i've just figured out where you're applying.
i have a friend who is the chaplain. in case you're in need of spiritual counsel, he's your man.

[moreena]

I am so jealous of PPB and all her east coast in-the-know. I have no idea what college town you are speaking of, with your hints dropped so casually. Just like having a friendly chat with Alex Trebek!

Flapping scarecrows and sharks in the toilet? I think your daughter is the reincarnation of me! Except, wait, that doesn't quite work. But, geez, I had some pretty awful scary dreams as a child. Probably influenced by the fact that I used to sneak out of my bedroom at night and hide behind the couch so I could watch the horror movies my dad favored on our stolen cable.

I can't imagine that they *wouldn't* accept you at whatever mystery college you speak of. Impossible.