Bananas...

Didgeridoo Boy's reaction to my dressing up his Alien model wasn't exactly what one would call positive. Positively exasperated, yes, but Didge didn't think my selection was in keeping with the Alien's manly persona. Maybe the Hello Kitty wand *was* a bit much. So it's due to my guilt over his adverse reaction to his prized Alien being made a fool of that I've decided to cave in and do a post on a subject I have never approached. Apologies in advance to my mom for this supreme breach of manners.

Wednesday afternoon, I had to give Totsi the Dog her bath. While she's not fond of this activity, she will get into the bathtub all on her own, and shake patiently while being tragically still throughout the obviously hellish event. Naturally, I'm compelled to reward her endurance, and Wednesday's reward was one hot dog with a little bit of mustard. It's one of her favorite treats, and she was so tolerant of being sudsed and doused that I felt she deserved something nice. And she appreciated it, performing an adorable wiggly dance with happy grunts upon receiving it.

In the wee hours of Thursday morning, I became aware of someone's stomach making noises. Assumed it was Didge's. A few hours later, around seven o'clock, that same stomach made a sound that I swear was exactly like a canned voice saying, "Bananas!" But it wasn't Didge's - - it was Totsi's. She was at the end of the bed, between our feet, and upon noticing I was awake went completely frantic. Totsi made it quite clear that I was to immediately get out of bed and take her to attend to something.

So that's what I did. After attending to this particular thing, it's the norm for Totsi to get a treat - but she refused it. She curled up on the couch for a little while, looking very concerned over her stomach's continued broadcast. She then went to the other end of the living room, stretched out, and looked downright worried. That's when loud noises began to happen that were not coming from her stomach, at least not technically.

(You will not persuade me to say it, because I know you know damned well what I am talking about.)

I looked up from Googling remedies for her ailment to see that she was staring at me with a very clear, "WHAT THE HELL???" expression. Yes, it was still happening. For about ten minutes she stared, round-eyed, at me without blinking. The problem was decidedly not hip to the idea of abating. I found that the best remedy was to let it pass. (Shut up.) As she was having no trouble in that department and seemed more astonished than distressed, I left her alone. After a while, she asked to go back into the bedroom with Didge. I obliged her.

That evening found her still recovering, but the noise had died down. She stuck very, very close to Didge (chalking this up to karma), only leaving his side once she was quite certain she felt better. He didn't find this the least bit touching, but I took it as a sign she's truly accepted him as a parent. Didge's sanity aside, the only casualty of the night was a can of air freshener, which he walked around spraying every five minutes (ironic, this). The next morning, Totsi was back to her old self - happy, wiggly, and prone to contented grunts; her "talky tum tum" was all gone, and she'd earned a new nickname: "Bananas".

So, there. I've told you. Didge and I are even now, and I'm going to pray to the goddesses of good taste for forgiveness. Hopefully my penance won't be too severe.