Today at breakfast, we learned from the Tween that her classmates and she are pairing up to raise baby eggs. By the time her name came up, they were apparently out of boys, so she and a friend are playing sisters who are adopting, which, as she pointed out, was a much better scenario than getting stuck with Harrison, the class clown (who never grew out of the glue eating phase), with whom her friend Anna is stuck.
Tween: “Anna has already said they’re getting divorced as soon as the exercise begins next week.“
Me: “But what about the egg?“
Tween: “Dad, it’s an egg!”
Me: “An egg who’s going to feel abandoned when Mommy and Daddy don’t love each other any more. An egg who starts looking down the aisle towards condiments to smoke and sudafed to turn into meth on its way to frying like those ‘brain on drugs’ ads….an egg who starts hooking up with other eggs in its carton to fill the love void left by its absent dad…”
Wife: “Muskrat! Muskrat!”