Mae-isms

I was making a sandwich last Saturday, licking the barbecue sauce off my fingers joyfully, when Mae plopped herself down on the counter beside me. Terrified at the impending argument that would probably follow, I turned to the side.
"Whatcha doin?"
"Making food."
"What kind?"
"The kind you eat."
"Toast?"
"A sandwich."
"That's not a sandwich!"
"Yes it is."
"Sandwiches don't have barbecue sauce."
"Toast doesn't either."
"You're weird."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you weird?"
"Because my mom dropped me on my head."
"Your mom must be REALLY strong!!"
"Why?"
"Because you're fat."
      Yes. Meet Mae.

Sunday Morning With the Bigley Family

Every Saturday for nearly three years, I have spent the night with my aunt and her hilarious bunch. And every Saturday for nearly three years, I have had the most interesting Sunday mornings of my life. This last Sunday was no exception. I woke up at around 6:30 to the sounds of the piano being banged on gleefully, possibly by a little girl in spandex pants and a bathrobe. Meet Mae. She's seven. She's something special. About that time, I heard a young boy screaming at little Mae. "SHUT UP, MAE! EVERYONE'S ASLEEP! YOU'RE GONNA WAKE THEM UP!" That would be a little boy in camouflage underwear. Meet Kyler. He's also something special. Well, I rolled back over to try and sleep through the chaos, but after a few minutes, I quickly realized that Mae had found another instrument. A toy flute. Oh, the joy. I put the pillow over my ears and shut the door, hoping to eliminate some of the noise. No dice. As I rolled over again, I realized that both of the dogs and both of the cats were in the room with me, staring at me intently. I sat up and warned Artie (boy-dog) with my eyes not to lick me. It seemed to be in slow motion, but I watched his tongue come out of his mouth and inch its way up my arm.
     "Okay, that's it." I got up and let them all out, only to be hit in the head with a toy of unknown origin. As I set out to find the thrower of the toy, I tripped over a hula hoop and sent myself plummeting over a cat, and onto the floor. Both kids were in the living room by this time, laughing hysterically over something they had done or stuck something to. I let out a deep, knowing sigh. Just another Sunday with the Bigley's.