Two Errands: His Wheelchair, and the Alien Baby

"Mommy, what's that?" and her mother says:
"A two-headed alien baby - it's for when you need
something devilish to play with."


Wheelchair and Alien Baby

The world washes through me
choosing my son's wheelchair.
A grateful mother of healthy children
privileged to have strife like
realizing he doesn't like soccer, or
missing the advanced class by a hair.

His wheelchair - it's temporary, and it's welcome.
A relief, and a novelty
certain to graduate to nuisance.
His sister is jealous.

A visitor in our family
bringing with it a reminder
that now cannot be presumed to persist,
that interruption beats assumption.

After the chair business the errand is for a toy
He's asked for the alien baby
a rubber two-headed, two-torsoed baby action figure
(if he were a girl, the word would be "doll")

One head is normal, adorable.
The other: fangs and cuts and blood and evil-angled eyes.
The spine sticks out the back on the alien side.
I am concerned about being criticized for buying it.

In the checkout line an angelic two-year-old girl says:
"Mommy, what's that?" and her mother says:
"A two-headed alien baby - it's for when you need
something evil to play with."

This is a time for monsters, of course!
For the child finally courageous to ride his scooter
rewarded with a first cast that doesn't work to steady the leg.
A new cast that does, but it's big, and people bump it.
4 days so far of pain he can not yet believe will end.

Surrounded by encouragement
Subtle commendation for being tough
Reassurance that he'll be good as new soon
Gifts and love and family holding him
In all this well-wishing, still there is night.

The evil baby's feet stick out the top of the bag,
making the car a little weirder than before
and I feel calmer for owning this little demon,
bringing it home for the child
to snuggle with knowing
as he now may sense
of the not knowing of what's a-head,
of the soulish delight in a thing both darling and very dark
propped in the lap of a hurt and safe nine-year-old boy.

Introphoning: Urban Dictionary

In 2007 I submitted a word to the Urban Dictionary.  It's 2013...and I decided to check if it made it in. Back then I posted as "Momniac."

One Sentence

"I think right now," she said, " courage is my option."