*So, you know how sometimes you say something, and then it hits you that there’s no way, no possible way in any possible world, that that sentence has ever been uttered before? Even in another language. There’s no friggin’ way. In all the books I’ve read on parenting, not one even remotely suggested I’d have to request that my kindergartener remove a toy egg from a clown’s head so that she could go to bed on time.
Tonight, Is is getting her yayas out by smacking around her big Bozo punching bag before bed. I’m waiting nearby to read some Harry Potter, when she smacks Bozo into the bookshelf, where she’s left a stack of felt sandwich parts, like a fried egg, Swiss cheese, pickles, jelly, bread, stuff like that. The felt fried egg falls off the shelf and she picks it up, plops it on Bozo’s head, laughs manically, and does it over and over and over and…*
“Isobel, it’s bedtime. Please take the egg off Bozo’s head and let’s get going…”