The little Beans were expecting sticks and coal for Christmas, but due to a chance encounter between Santa and Big Al, a 165-lb English mastiff, they got lucky. And so on Christmas morning when they discovered the unexpected loot, they were rapturous.
Papa, on the other hand, was cooking and got his kilt in a wad over something which rendered his humor foul and his expression disagreeable. Maybe it was his nerves. Maybe Santa didn’t give him what he wanted. Whatever it was, he clearly needed a drink.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t as easily remedied as it seems.
My sister Belle is a card carrying member of AA, so we have to drink clandestinely. The problem with this plan is that Aunt Belle is like a hound dog when it comes to booze. It’s like she can sense it or something, so she pretends she doesn’t know and we pretend that we aren’t doing it, and she talks about us in therapy.
We. Are. Dysfunctional.
Papa was being an ass. I slipped him a bloody Mary in a coffee mug.
Moose scampered underfoot with a singing tractor. “There was a farmer had a dog, and Bingo was his name-o. B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! And Bingo was his name-o!”
On and on it went. And I started to develop a song worm. “B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! And Bingo was his name-o!” I hummed.
Papa went upstairs to his garret and dug out a pair of earplugs. I filled another coffee mug.
“Toy manufacturers are the scourge of the earth,” I said to Papa.
Meanwhile Jax was taking pictures with his new camera. It’s just a little Disney 1.3 megapixel camera. But Papa was convinced that Jax was going to be the next Annie Leibovitz . So my little shutterbug snapped pictures all day and interrupted Papa’s cooking occasionally to demand a download. Papa would take a break and the two of them would sit around Papa’s computer admiring the pictures. Papa was so proud he showed them to me, to Mimi, to Aunt Belle and even to Moose. And Jax, whose art portfolio from school never merited much acclaim (and much of it has ended up in the trash), shrugged like it was no big deal, but he didn’t really pull it off because his little 4-year-old chest was puffed out like he’d just spelled Mississippi.
His subjects were unusual. My Kitchenaid mixer, which really is a wonder—I just don’t think it’s particularly photogenic even if it is a smashing cobalt blue. Moose’s bare fanny during a diaper change. Me putting on mascara. There was an entire documentary of the disaster we call my bedroom that Papa found particularly hysterical (Papa has a peculiar sense of humor). There was photographic evidence of a Moose hit—Moose pushing a chair up to the kitchen counter, Moose climbing on the chair, Moose climbing from the chair to the counter, Moose grabbing the salt shaker. And there was a Pekingese bitch who didn’t seem to appreciate being photographed.
It was Jax’s “perspective” that fascinated Papa.
“You’re 74 inches. Jax is 42 inches. There’s gonna be a different perspective.”
“WHAT?”
Here it is, a compilation of Jax’s perspective. Papa fixed the red eyes. Except for the last two—the little hand in the floating camellias that I took and the picture of Jax and me that Aunt Belle took—these are Jax’s photos. Oh, and I spared you Moose’s diaper change.
After a gluttonous turkey feast, we had a late afternoon nap and then Mimi’s pecan pie for dinner. Mimi’s pecan pie is enough to make your mouth water just thinking about it. Aunt Belle had gone home, so I opened a bottle of chardonnay.
All in all it was a marvelous Christmas… but I just can’t shake this damn song worm.
“B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! And Bingo was his name-o!”
{ 13 comments }
I have to admit I had to turn the sound off. The last thing I need today is to have BINGO playing over and over in my brain. The pictures were adorable! I’m glad you shared!
I always wanted the deep red or pink KitchenAid. I have a white one. They hadn’t come out with the colors yet. That’s how old mine is.
Papa rocks…kilt and all! ( I think I mentioned that once before)
I love the idea of doing a slideshow with the pictures that your little one took! Strangely, the song does not even bother me. Maybe because my little ones are off at school right now .
The girls sat around running their mouths while I slaved away in the kitchen. I cooked a turkey, cornbread from scratch, mashed potatoes, caramelized carrots, grilled asparagus, gravy, cornbread stuffing and biscuits.
And when I sweetly suggested that it would be a LOVELY time set the table, you should have seen the looks I got. In the meantime I stepped over Jenny’s bitch Hyacinth (who had her eye on the bird) 348 times, chased the boys around the house 70 times, told Jax we’d be eating in 15 minutes 13 times and cleaned up the kitchen. All this with a smile on my face. . . until 3-foot tall Moose came through the kitchen with a 6-foot long broom (that his mother forgot to put up) and knocked my Bloody Mary off the counter along with a bowl of cornbread that had taken me 15 minutes to break up into small enough pieces for the stuffing.
Then when I growled at Aunt Belle, who God forbid would ever be a little moody herself, the subject of the yakking all of a sudden turned to how grumpy Papa was.
Next year I’ll be smiling. . . and they’ll be eating warmed up pizza.
As for Jax’s pictures of the Jenny Cave, I’ll give Jenny a thousand
bucks of hard earned cash to publish them on this blog.
The cash will be in dollar bills from my night job at the ladies club.
Papa
I’m late to the game, but I’m just realizing how many daughters Papa has. No wonder he’s grumpy. He hasn’t had enough boys to play with. Thank God for Moose and Jax. I can’t wait to read about the first time they have to wait for Papa in his trailer dressing room while he’s working the ladies’ club. When they’re famous writers later in life, they’ll thank you for the inspiration you fueled their young minds with. 😉
Oh, and a few serious notes:
* love it: his little 4-year-old chest was puffed out like he’d just spelled Mississippi.
* thanks, bitch, for putting that f****ing song in my heaad (I said serious, not NICE)
* y’all are so cute it hurts, and it was nice to see a clear shot of your beautiful face, Jenny
Irene: smart girl, turning off the sound. Love, love, LOVE my Kitchenaid mixer. Got it at Tuesday Morning years ago for $140, and I’m still proud of it. Pink sounds cool. I think they have a retro seafoam green too.
Heather: I used iMovie. It was so cool. I’ll walk you through it sometime.
Papa: If I thought you were serious about the $1,000, I’d risk humiliation and post those pictures. You’re misleading people: YOU DID NOT CLEAN THE KITCHEN.
Pamela: I’m gonna cry. Sorry about the song worm. I have just a little naughty streak in me. It comes from the Bean side. Papa has 3 daughters, and he can sit right smack in the middle of a nasty cat fight reading a book like nothing was going on.
Yeah.. Bingo… I’ll still be singing that tomorrow when I wake up. But seriously loved the photos. Very cute!
Oh.. and papa needs his own blog 😉
Thanks for today’s chuckle!
I was so happy to your post in my email today! I got a big laugh which brightened my day. And yes, I have that lovely song worm in my head now but I needed it because I’ve been singing a dinosaur song from our preschool all week!
Thanks for the great laugh!
Shanon: thanks for coming to visit. Sorry about the song worm! Papa can’t spell. It takes him two hours to compose a comment, and he usually calls me about 17 times during that two hours asking how to spell something.
Betsy: happy to give you a laugh, but I suspect you laugh a lot anyway!
You should really consider approaching Bravo for your own reality show!
You haven’t seen the state of Maison Bean! I would have to get a housekeeper first, and everybody knows that you have to spend three hours cleaning before the housekeeper comes. In my case, it would be three weeks!
Thanks for coming to visit, Gigi!
My little trooper has become fascinated with Dora. Sickness has made us spoil her, so we’ve been letting her watch episodes while using the nebulizer. Whenever I’m out and alone, I now hear, “Where are we going? To win the whistle?” and “Backpack, backpack.” Oy!
I still haven’t figured out why the manufacturers of noisy toys for children haven’t started using the “Mosquito” tone so that folks who are older than 25 aren’t subjected to the sounds. We’d pay extra for the quiet! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mosquito
Jenn, what a great idea! We should market it–I’ll bet we’d get rich!
If Dora makes neb treatments a treat, you’ve found your solution. She’ll be up and back to her playful self soon. I promise!
Call if you need advice. We’ve been through this.
The pictures sure do tell a tale about the family, I thought they were great. I’m even hoping the Bingo song worm replaces the Ke$ha, brushing her teeth with a bottle of Jack song that’s currently stuck in my head.
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