People often say to me “NDM, are you willing and able to substantiate all the events and conversations that appear in your blog?” And, believe it or not, they don’t just ask me this in a court of law. They also ask me when they’re trying to get through my front door with their TV crews. Stupid TV crews.
The truthful answer is “Yes, it’s all true… if just ever-so-slightly exaggerated.” I look upon in like pumping up the bass on the beginning bit of The Breeders’ “Cannonball”: accentuating the groove. I mean, for one thing, I definitely make my husband far funnier than he actually is. Far far funnier.
However, nothing The Pixie says is ever exaggerated. I write down what she says ad verbatum. Man, that kid is trippy.
For example, recently she drew the following picture for her friend Master X.
It was such a very complex picture with so much obviously going on, I asked her to explain it to me.
“Oh,” she said. “This is Master X with his mum and his little sister talking to his teacher at the school. He is thinking that his mother is a monster.”
“And this is Master X’s sister, Baby A, at home in her cot,” The Pixie continued. “Her daddy is looking after her. But he’s put on X’s mother’s clothes so that Baby A doesn’t know her mummy has gone out. See? This is a skirt. And he’s wearing her underwater top, too.”
(Please note: the jury’s still out on whether “underwater top” means bikini or tshirt favoured for wet tshirt competitions.)
On the other side of the piece of paper, the picture continued.
“Now it’s night time. Everybody is in their beds,” The Pixie explained. “Here is Master X dreaming of that monster.”
“And this is Baby A dreaming that somebody is stealing her milk.”
“And here is Master X’s mummy dreaming of marrying somebody else.”
Which begged the question: “Where is Master X’s daddy?
“Oh, he’s already gone off and married someone else,” The Pixie replied, matter-of-factedly. Of course he’s done that. You know it’s true.
When I presented this picture to Master X’s mummy, she took this rather bleak depiction of her family life with the good humour I’ve come to expect from her.
“I feel honoured that we were worth so much texta” was her official response, before rushing home to no doubt check her collection of “underwater tops” hadn’t been stretched too much.
I told my husband about the picture. “Where on earth does she get this stuff?” and then looked at him sideways as if to suggest he might occasionally wear some of my clothing or, from time to time, take on additional wives.
My husband just wryly laughed in a way that suggested I should write him a suitably witty response to make him look far funnier in this blog post than he actually is and not at all guilty of any of those things.
Which I haven’t.