humor

Humor has a way of creeping into my brain at the most inopportune times. I like to think that I display appropriate behavior most of the time, but on at least one occasion, I embarrassed myself and my daughter with uncontrollable giggling. In order to understand how a visual memory made me look like a fool, I have to share a story.

My husband and I were visiting my brother and sister-in-law in Georgia. On a whim, we decided to visit Babyland General Hospital, the birthplace of Cabbage Patch Kids, in Cleveland, Georgia. Yes, there really is such a place, complete with nurses, doctors and orderlies.

The dolls born in this unique location are hand-made of cloth. They have fat faces and and wide-opened arms. Some are born bald and some have curly or wavy heads of hair. They originate in a large cabbage patch under the Magic Crystal Tree. When a family decides to adopt one of the kids, a nurse announces “Cabbage dilation; all staff on standby.”

The contractions are timed and when the birth is imminent, a doctor appears and listens to the cabbage with a stethoscope. He or she then injects it with “Imagicillin”, yanks the nude baby from the patch and cameras flash, recording the remarkable event. (Really, I’m not making this up.)

The newborn birthed on our visit that day had exaggerated dimples, much like the Pillsbury dough boy, and a full head of bright, red hair that looked as if someone pressed their fingers firmly on the baby’s head to make ripples that were evenly distributed on both sides of the head. The bizarre and funny experience apparently burned an image in my subconscious only to manifested itself later.

Fast forward a few days after vacation. My daughter, in the process of selecting a realtor to sell her home, invited me join her when a potential broker made his pitch to her. I stood in the living room when Laura answered the door to let the agent in. In walked an adult version of the Cabbage Patch Doll birthed during our visit to Georgia. The man had plump, peach cheeks with huge dimples and red wavy hair split down the center of his head.

My mind immediately revisited the process of his head being yanked out of the cabbage patch. I felt the strong urge creep from my stomach and nearly escaped my mouth before I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom.

I turned on the water in hopes that it would drown out the uncontrollable laughter. I tried to compose myself with little success. After five or ten minutes, I exited the bathroom and took a seat next to my daughter as she sat listening to the man explain why the company he represented should list her home.

Unable to look directly at the realtor without losing control, I tried to focus on a picture hanging on the wall, sucked in my cheeks and clenched my jaw in hopes that I would not repeat my inappropriate behavior. The second the interview was over and Laura escorted the man out the door, I fell to the floor in hysteria. To this day, I cannot think about the face without breaking into unconstrained laughter.

I’d like to think I am not alone in having such an embarrassing moment. Sometimes humor takes control and can’t be quieted. I’d love to hear from you if you can relate.

Kids rule when it comes to prioritizing life. A baby that wants to be fed does not understand the need for mom to pay for the groceries first. The two-year old who has to use the potty wins over the dad’s who desires to wait until the last inning of a baseball game to go to the rest room. Seldom do the priorities of an adult trump a child’s innocent demands. The child wins, plain and simple.

I remember when my daughter, Laura, was four years old and she accompanied me on a forty-five minute drive through rush hour traffic to pick up my husband’s pay check from his place of employment. After many “Are we there yet?” inquiries, we finally made it to our destination.

Since we had been in the car beyond what my daughter considered reasonable, I decided we would stop at the Top Value Stamp store just up the street, so that I could redeem the few books I had accumulated and she could stretch her legs.

For those who do not know, these stamps were small paper coupons given to customers by merchants. The stamps could be redeemed for toys, personal items, household items and appliances when a book was filled.

With her inseparable companion, a tattered, stuffed dog named Henry, tucked safely under her arm, Laura proceeded to walk around the store looking at the many items. It took about twenty minute to decide on my selection. When I finished, we left the store to make the long drive back to our house.

It was nearly dark by the time we arrived in front of the mobile home. I unhooked the belt from Laura’s car seat and helped her out of the car.

We almost made it to the front door when Laura began whaling at the top of her lungs.

“Henry’s sleeping in the baby bed.” She sobbed uncontrollably as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

There was no need to go any further. We turned around, got back in the car and drove another forty-five minutes to retrieve the lovable mutt. We arrived five minutes before the store closed and rushed inside. Sure enough, as peaceful as a slumbering child, Henry laid in the display baby bed with his head nestled on a pillow and a blanket snuggled up to his brown nose.

Parents know the kid rules when it comes to prioritizing the important things in life.

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Humor Wins

Kids Rule