Momnesia

Creating a Monster

My friend Penny came down to visit this weekend. Let me say, briefly, because I deal with it in my Mouthful column next week, that certain downtown restaurants sorely disappointed me while she was here. Thank you to New Moon Cafe for redeeming us all.

That said, she brought numerous belated birthday gifts for Emerson, including a dress-up doll that Emmie has named "Petunia." Oddball. Anyway, if Emmie were of dating age, I'd think she was in love with Penny. She showed off, danced, made jokes, and jabbered the whole time Penny was here. Her excitement was barely controlled. But finally, Penny had to leave. We said goodbye in the parking lot of another disappointing downtown restaurant, and Emmie immediately began to shriek.

She cried and shrieked so loudly that when we pulled up beside Penny at 13th and Reynolds, I rolled down the window and pretended to conduct Emmie's vocal symphony. Penny and I laughed. There was nothing else to do. There was just no stopping Emmie's fury.

After a few miles without the onslaught letting up, I finally pulled over into a church parking lot, got her out of the car and just held her.
"Roodle-doodle! I don't understand! What's wrong?"
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Oh, Emmie, you're freaking me out. Tell me why you're crying, please!"
"I'm saaaaaaad! I miss my Penneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!"
"Honey, she's been gone for 17 seconds. If you're this freaked out now, what are you going to do when we send you to a convent?"
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

I know she has no idea what I was talking about, and I just strapped her back in and drove home. There was nothing else I could do. When we walked in the door, she ran crying to my bed, crawled in, pulled the covers over her head, rolled over and fell immediately asleep. I just snuggled her exhausted little self and hoped that she felt better in the morning.