Our Father Who ARE 2 D 2

26 August 2017
Story #878

R. Linda:

OK SO . . . I don't know how to say this, BUT Mam (while she doesn't need glasses), needs a brain adjustment of sorts. I be embarrassed to even write this story but she is so damn cute sometimes, and I have to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, and sometimes just to keep me sanity.

Let me start a few months back (oh, to think this has been going on THAT long) when the wee one was left in her care and Tonya and I took the two eldest boys shopping for school clothes. Upon our arrival three hours later, Mam tells us that the wee one was "a trill ta watch." Oh, he was so good, and he played with his toys; he wasn't interested in the telly, no, he was creating scenes, and he was a perfect joy.

Okay, then. We were happy it worked out; happier still that he wasn't glued to the telly. She was equally thrilled he went "ta baid at 9 o'clock, such a verra gude buy." That, too, wow, how easy was that for her? That was the last time she had to babysit the wee gent, as we haven't been going out much because by then the Dragon had descended on her broom, and as you know, it's all we can do to keep up with her visits. Now Dragon's visits have not gone well for Mam, no, no, they have not. There have been many a time I find meself the referee between them on some argy in the kitchen, usually over how to prepare some dish.

Me sainted little apple-cheeked, grey-haired Mam would take me aside and whisper to me that I needed to send the Dragon away, she was going to start drinking full tilt if I didn't do something because the Dragon was driving her to the drink and on and on she went. So to maintain me sanity on both ends, I finally got the Dragon to leave with the excuse of your visit, that we needed the guest room.

When you were here, I know you noticed me very Catholic Mam, with her rosary beads. She takes an hour a day to say the rosary in the privacy of her room. There she prays that we are all kept safe and blessed, as well as prays to St. Francis to keep the Dragon away. St. Francis because he loved all animals, and Mam figures Dragon be lumped in that class, and so that's why St. Francis. I know her logic be bent, but . . .

I never disturb her when she's at her devotions. But just this morning, there was a long-distance phone call from her sister in Ireland, and I had to go get her to the phone. I knocked softly and then knocked again, and she just as softly said, "Coom in," and I did, and there she was kneeling in front of her St. Francis statue, her hands clutching her beads, her lips silently moving in prayer. I softly approached so as not to break the atmosphere of saintliness in the room, and as I got closer to her make-shift altar, I saw on the top not a statue of St. Francis, but this:

The new and modern version of the action figure St. Francis

"Uh . . . Mam," says I, "are ye prayin' ta dat figure dere?" And I pointed at the white-haired figure.

"Oh, aye, indeed, that's the new and improved St. Francis," says she brightly.

"Uh . . . Mam," says I again, "I tink ye are prayin' ta Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . from Star Wars."

Horrified, she rocked back on her heels, looking at it.

"Woooot?"

"Yes, I be pretty certain that be Obi-Wan." Says I.

"Why dat leetle deevil!" She got up off her knees and looked at me aghast. "Yer wee gent gave dat ta me da nite I sat fer 'em an tole me it was St. Francis an I could half 'em. Dat explains it!" She said with a bit of heat.

"Explains wot?" I asked.

"Why me prayers ain't bein' answered!"

We stood there for a few seconds; she was silently steaming, and I was trying not to laugh.

"Oh befur I furgit, you half a phone call from Ireland, yer sissy," I said breaking the silence.

With that, she started out of the room, but then she came back and swiped, and I mean swiped up that action figure and went out of the room with me just steps behind her. Suddenly, she turned and I walked into her and she grabbed me hand, put the figure in it, hissing at me, "Doncha tell a soul ye hear?"

Uh, sure, LOL, I won't tell anyone, but YOU R. Linda. Me lips are sealed, LMAO.

Gabe
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