Imaginary Interview With My Mother

“Hello? I’m with the Holy Crap Gazette and I was hoping to speak with the grandmother of the house.”

“This is the grandmother, speaking.”

“Yes, it is such a pleasure. I was wondering if I could get you to answer a few questions relating to an article I’m writing.”

“Of course. Go ahead. I’m an open book.”

“Is it true that you have purchased the largest gift in the history of the universe for one of your grandchildren this Christmas?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s the largest gift, but I guess it is rather big.”

“Are you aware that the gift you sent this particular grandchild is causing riots to break out in his homeland?”

“Well…I wasn’t…really…”

“Do you or do you not know about the riots?”

“My daughter had mentioned something about a sh*! storm earlier in the week, but I’m sure…it wasn’t…serious?”

“Well I assure you–it’s serious. Stuff just got real up in your daughter’s household. How do you feel about that?”

“It’s nothing she can’t handle; she’s a perfectly capable parent.”

“It sounds like you don’t understand the severity of the situation, Mrs. C.”

“Why don’t you explain to me the severity of the situation, then?”

“Kids are going ape over one kid’s ginormous mega-present. They’re revolting. They’re demanding action. They’re demanding presents of a larger size, and lots of them. They’re demanding to open presents before Christmas. Your own daughter has been quoted as saying ‘I swear I will take this thing to the store and exchange it for a crate of organic Bran Flakes, so help me God, we will have a communist Christmas every year from this year on out; oh my freaking mother will pay, somehow, as God as my witness, I will make her pay.’  There are people willing to go on record and testify that these very words have come out of your daughter’s mouth, a number of times at that. When was the last time you talked to your daughter, grandmother who plays favorites?”

“Now, hold on. I do not play favorites. I love all my grandchildren equally, and–”

“Then explain why you sent fail-gifts to the grand-daughters while the grandson hits the mother load.”

“You don’t understand. Boys…boys are…”

“Better?”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Sure.”

“I was going to say that boys love trucks and tractors and large, inexpensive toys. The girls have more refined tastes; that is why their presents are smaller–they are choosing quality over quantity.”

“I’d like to hear you explain that to the 7-year-old girl of the household.”

“She’s old enough to know that good things come in small packages.”

“Is that right.”

“That’s right. And I’ll tell you something else–her mother is old enough to control her kids at Christmastime.”

“Tina. Come on. We both know that your children became depraved crazy people during the month of December.”

“Well, I–”

“It is rumored that you encouraged Christmas lunacy even then by buying abnormally large presents–a keyboard, a Barbie Townhome…and a number of bikes. Am I right?”

“Yes, but it was all stuff they wanted. And Merrick wants trucks.”

“So you bought not only a truck, but an entire construction site that was shipped in box that could be used to hide dead bodies?”

“Wha…? Dead bodies? No, I don’t–”

Is it true that you had already thought this whole present-thing through and were actually counting on the fact that the children would revolt and drive their mother insane? Is it true that this very thought brought you a great deal of pleasure?”

“Well, I…”

“Is it true?”

“Yes. God help me; it’s true.”

“Thank you for your time ma’m. I think I have all the information I need.”

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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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