Posted by GIRL'S GONE CHILD | Monday, March 06, 2006
"Two faces are better than one." I admit, as a Gemini I have always said so. But now that my spawn has inherited my charming characteristic I am beginning to change my tune. One face is fine. One face is enough. One face is simple and wonderful and easy to deal with.
Last night we went to an Oscar Party for twenty minutes. En route to our friendz apartment we were all sunshine and light. Dr. Happyface played peek-a-boo with me and we sang songs about rainbows and gave eskimo kisses and laughed and laughed and laughed. We parked the car and skipped to the door of our destination, smiling and babbling in the elevator. Dr. Happyface was as charming as he looked, dressed to impress in plaid and baby-trenchcoat.
But as soon as the door swung open and faces appeared, fingers outstetched to shake Dr. Happyface's hand, Mr. Grumpalicious took over, possessing our sweet, gentle creature with the shrieks and wails of a frenzied pyschopath. Suddenly Mr. Grumpalicious grew claws and clung to me with such will, my arms bled. (Okay, my fault for not cutting his nails this weekend, but still.)
We watched the beginning of the Oscars, rocking Mr. Grumpalicious, making funny faces, introducing him to Hollywood hotness. "Look, Mr. Grumpa, Jessica Alba! Not your type? Kiera Knightly? Too old. Rachel Wiesz' fetus?" unfortunately, even the promise of a Jewish girlfriend (suffice to say Wietz and Arofonski are having a girl. Whatever, we're liberals.) wasn't enough to stop the insanity. We scarfed down cheese and chilli, determined to capitalize on our cameo appearance. When nothing was working and the baby screams were no longer "Aw. Sooooo cute", we waved goodbye to our single friends, accepting the award for Most Fashionable Temper Tantrum in an Oscar Party.
"Mr. Grumpalicious, a few words?"
"Raaaaa, raaaaa, raaaaaaaaa, rarararararraara. raaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Sniff, sniff, raaaaaaaaah."
"Thank you, sir. And that's our time."
As soon as the doors closed behind us, the rainbows appeared and the sun and candy fell from the rafters and all was sing-songy and cheerful again. Dr. Happyface smiled and cooed, tears still ripe in his eyes. The boy laughed down the elevator and giggled all the way home. Dadz and I looked at each other and shook our heads.
"Our son, the misanthrope."
"Sure sign of genius."
"Actually, I am hoping this is just a phase."
"Um, yeah. Me too."
Back at home Dr. Happyface played with the dogs, kicked his little legs and scrunched his nose at me like the perfect angel he is. At home. Alone. I swear.