Every once in a while, the pathway between my brain and my mouth short-circuits, and gives my family fuel for entertainment for months, possibly years to come.
There was an open house at the Impossible Son's school this evening, and afterwards, we went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. It was on the way home from the grocery store that the discussion turned to Halloween and costumes. The Impossible Son asked me if I was going to dress up this year. "I dunno," I said tiredly, because I've got the Migraine of Doom. "What do you want me to go as?"
"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to go as?"
I wasn't in the mood to ride on that particular merry-go-round, so I sighed and said, "Maybe I'll just go as a hippie."
"No, I don't like that," he said and you could just hear the frown in his voice. "I don't want you to go as a hippy, Mom."
Great. "Okay, how 'bout I go as Molly Weasley?" I said. That shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, she's a mom, I'm a mom, I just have to dress eccentrically and carry a wooden spoon and look harried. In other words, just... dress and look normal, and maybe a poofy red wig or something. And add a British accent.
"That would be AWESOME!!" said Mr. Impossible. "Do it! Do it! And Papa can be Mr. Weasley!"
I looked over at my husband and his tattoos and said, "Um, no, maybe he should be Charlie..."
"No!" said the Impossible Son. "I'm going to be Charlie Weasley!"
The Impertinent Daughter snorted at this, but didn't say anything.
"Okay," I said, willing to go along with this, and thinking about what pens I could use to draw "tattoos" on his arms. "You can carry your toy dragon under your arm, too, and when you go up to people's porches, you can say, look! I'm handling my dragon!"
The moment that popped out of my mouth, I knew, instinctively, that I had Dropped A Brick. There was shocked silence in the van for about... oh... I'd say about maybe 9 nano-seconds that lasted approximately two thousand years... and then they all died laughing.
"MOM!!!" said my daughter, trying to sound outraged while nearly suffocating herself laughing. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!!"
"Wow, honey," said the Husbandly One, snorting and guffawing, "that's... wow! That's way beyond your usual!"
"What?" said the Impossible Son, lost for about ten seconds, and then, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!! MOM!!! GEEZ!!! That's just... WRONG!!!"
See? Even with a migraine, I'm pretty damn entertaining... most especially when I don't mean to be!!
I'm sure my face will stop burning at some point. And I hope they will let me live it down sometime before I'm eighty!
*goes to hide*