Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004


As part of my youngest child’s ongoing campaign to spend every single dime I make on fluffy stuffed animals, this weekend’s trip to Atlanta snared her yet another plastic-pellet filled prize, “Alfalfa.”

No, not this one, but rather, this one.

We had passed by the gift shop one too many times without stopping, and finally she would not be denied. After an interminable amount of time spent hovering over her to keep her from breaking something or wandering off with something, she found the bunny in question and grabbed it up with a Vise-Grip-like head lock. I protested, but only weakly, because it really is a cute bunny, and it was Easter weekend, and she didn’t have a giant Easter basket waiting on her at home, and she’s just so stinkin’ danged cute herself, so I relented.

(And I don’t feel quite so bad after seeing how much they charge at the Beanie Baby site--we got it for almost half the price. EEK! I sound like Miss Reba when she tells me how much she saved off of her giganto tab by shopping at the Spring Sale! I’m DOOMED!)

Anyway, fluffy bunny comes to live with us for the rest of the trip, and it is refreshing for no other reason than it has a name that isn’t KiKi or KoKo or Kati or any of the other hard-K sounding names Catty-poo usually comes up with for her animals. “Alfalfa,” is a rather pleasant diversion in nomenclature. Although Catherine did have some problems at first figuring out how to say it--Aflaffu, Alaflata, Atflafla, Aflac (not really), but she finally figured it out, as well as received a farming lesson on the wonders of alfalfa.

This morning, Alfalfa became the newest victim subject of the continuing series of Toothbrush Stories. Although Catherine was in a pretty good mood this morning, she did have to get up a bit earlier (meaning that getting her dressed was even more like putting pants on a polar bear with a drainage pipe on his nose), so as a prophylaxis to any outbreaks of tear duct squirtage, I decided to go ahead and tell a Toothbrush Story without first being asked.

“Cat, would you like a Toothbrush Story this morning?”

Head shake 'yes,' mouth full of toothpaste, “Yeashth, thurgh.”

“And who is it going to be about?”

“Wrahghbau.” I told her to spit. “CCccccssssKKKKTHPtoooooo…RABBIT!”

“You mean Alfalfa Rabbit?”

“Yes, sir, Flafalafla!”

Okay, so she’s still working on it.

I went and retrieved the rabbit from the warren of tangled bedspreads and wooly houseslippers and other stuffed menagerie members and brought her back into the bathroom and sat down upon my Magical Story-telling Throne. (It doesn’t tell stories--I do, sitting upon it. Although a story-telling toilet probably would be pretty cool.)

Remember as you read this to act out all the parts and voices and noises with great drama and flourish for the best effect. You also need a rabbit:
ONCE UPON A TIME, as all good stories begin, Alfalfa Rabbit hopped out of her door one morning to go feast upon the wondrous alfalfa plants that surrounded her burrow. As she nibbled and crunched and made herself nice and plump for cooking, she suddenly stopped. It seemed something had become lodged in her great big rodent-like front teeth, and it hurt tremendously, and she didn’t know there was such a thing as a rabbit and rodent dental program, so she did the next best thing she could do and hopped back to her hole and told her Mommy.

“AH-ee, ah hah sum-en tuck ih mah mou!” she said, and her mother told her to open wide so she could see. Since the rabbits didn’t have electricity in their burrow, Mommy Rabbit had to use a large miner’s lamp, and when the acetylene had begun to cast a nice glow, she could see the trouble.

“Well, Alfalfa, it seems you have a ROCK stuck between your teeth.” Alfalfa remembered that her mother had always told her not to eat rocks, and now she knew why. “Have you brushed your teeth, dear?” Alfalfa nodded her rabbit-eared head ‘no’, so her mother gently swatted her fluffy cotton tail and told her to get to brushing right away.

AND as she brushed and brushed, OUT popped the tiny pebble and she felt ALLLLLL better! She hopped back into the kitchen and told her mommy she was going to go back out and eat some more yummy alfalfa. Her mother grabbed the tip of her ear and said, “Wait just a moment, young lady--you need to always remember that you should NEVER eat off of the ground. You need to always use a plate, a knife, a fork, and a spoon when you eat. So she gave her a set of dinnerware and Alfalfa ran off and ate her breakfast and didn’t get a SINGLE pebble in her teeth.
By the time I had finished, I had two other eager children standing there following along.

“Well, Daddy, you know,” said Boy, “the ONE problem with your story is that RABBITS don’t have opposable thumbs, and they could NEVER hold a knife or a fork or a spoon!” Little smart-alecky pill--“Well, you know Jonathan, I have also never heard of RABBITS that can TALK!” Sheepish grin, “Oh. Yeah.”

So there!

(He just better be glad I didn’t tell him that Alfalfa’s lack of opposable thumbs caused her to drop the plate and silverware and create such a noise outside the burrow that it alerted the hungry farmer, who decided some rabbit stew with alfalfa sprouts would be very tasty indeed.)

Comments: Post a Comment

al.com - Alabama Weblogs

free hit counter
Visits since 12/20/2001--
so what if they're mostly me!

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't
Weblog Commenting by HaloScan.com