“Why does our daughter smell like
ashes?” is not a question many parents have to answer to.
But I'm not like many parents. For one,
the entire world knows who I am. For two, other parents are better
liars than I am. Can't wait till Milly is old enough to grasp the
concept of Santa Claus. That fat, red liar got all the credit my
mother deserved growing up. I won't lie to my child! My lady...that's
another story.
“I think she got into the chimney”
I say to Ronica. Ronica is my lady not my wife. I call her my wife
sometimes. She's dragging her heels on getting married until she
loses all the weight she gained when she was pregnant with Milly.
She's five pounds lighter than before she was pregnant. Its a lie.
I'm just returning the lie favor.
“We live in Hawaii” she tells me.
“I know, right?!” I say. “And its
so beautiful here...”
“And we don't have a chimney.”
“What kind of home has no chimney?!”
I ask, genuinely shocked at this turn of events.
“Don't try to change the subject.”
“This will not stand!” I shout.
Milly laughs and shouts as well which makes the pictures on the wall
wobble and Ronica wince. “I refuse to raise our child in a
chimney-less home! Pack your bags, sugarfoot. We're moving!”
