Monstery Underpants

It was a cold, rainy day that started out with monstery underpants. (Not to be confused with Montessori underpants, which would sing a song called The Family of the Sun, do turkey basting works, and make small books illustrating the biomes of the wetlands.) Monstery underpants are worn on the head before breakfast at a jaunty angle, summoning to mind a beret. Wearing them may, like wearing any other uniform, cause bonding between brothers. Mbot announced that he was going to protect Gbot from a “monstery movie.”

“Gbot, I”ll always be here to help,” he offered. “I will cover up your eyes when danger comes.”  And during the monstery movie this evening, which was in fact just the trailer for Megamind, while Gbot watched unfazed from the sofa, Mbot peeked out from the kitchen, where he was hiding because he gets scared easily and sometimes has bad dreams, long enough to see the girl blow the spider into Megamind’s face. He thought that was hilarious. “That is what I’ll do to all my bad dream members!” he announced.

Earlier, Gbot “wanted only pancakes” for dinner, but he yiked his new shark raincoat. (His “y” does the work of an “l” and often a “w.”) The coat was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I called it into early service because today’s unending drizzle represents probably a tenth of Maricopa County’s annual rainfall. We may not need it again for a long time.

And this afternoon after traipsing with the Midgets through the drizzle into the library, I paid $8.60 in overdue fees. “Did you know that this book was due November 7?” asked the librarian in disbelief.

Like I didn’t know.

I’d already renewed it twice and still wasn’t past page thirty. As the raincoated Midgets were squirming behind me on their bottoms on the new library carpet, having earned their positions by being monstery, I had trouble believing her disbelief.

Oh, and this morning, we also startled a giant spider out of the soggy leaves by the gutter. “I love you all the way out to the sewer gutter,” Mbot told me at bedtime, in a personalized version of Sam McBratney and Anita Jeram’s Guess How Much I Love You.

And so another day goes by. I have no insights. But I noticed these things. And I would never have remembered that last one if I hadn’t just written it down. Sometimes, just remembering is enough.

Do you write? What does it startle out of the soggy leaves of your day?

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