Naughty and Nice and Goo

Edit made out a naughty and nice list. Her oldest sister, Mona, and Mona's guy got posted to the bad side. The three had spent days bellylaughing together during Mona's Thanksgiving visit, so I asked Edit to explain. Edit looked at me and uttered only, "Piercings." "But Mona was nice too," Edit added later. "I overheard Mona say to Lex, 'You ask Mom about getting our nails done. Mom just spoiled me at the store and I don't want to ask for more.'" I'm not sure Edit has a handle on how "not asking for more" is supposed to work. Maybe people like me is why religion was invented. Some of us need more than the Annual Santa to help lay the ground work for a functioning morality in our offspring.

When asked by her music teacher whether any of her big sisters had special talents, Edit answered, "Well, yes. Mona has her piercing and Lex likes to listen to music." There are days you cannot crawl deep enough to escape.

Tired of thinking about Mona's viper piercing ("It's for lesbians," a pierced and tattooed bartender told me the other night as I was practicing my routine), I pulled a switch. "What did you think of her wig?" I asked Edit and Lex, refering to the hairpiece that Mona bought after getting a Rhianna cut that made her call me from outside the salon and cry. "Goo," said Lex, using a soundbyte for "ick" that has that idiot "Word" expression beat to hell. "A WIG? SHE HAS A WIG?" Edit said, with an intensity consistent with finding a polar bear in the kitchen. Edit went on, but not by asking "Why?", or "What did her hair look like and how long before it grows out?", or "How does one make a wig, exactly, Mother?" No, Edit continued with, "Why didn't you tell me? I could have teased her about it!" "It's hard to tease her about it," I said, finally smartening up and keeping to myself my spiel on what Mona had said of the wig in defense: "It's human hair." Oh, right. Like a human skin suit. Or a scab jacket. Goo, goo, goo. Ick, ick, ick.

Except that except for the free association issues I have with the "human" part, I think that wearing a wig is kind of neat and Mona is easy with it. When she scratches her head, if she catches me staring, she wiggles the wig and winks. And you might not be able to tell it's a wig unless your eyes are used to the concept of hairline and scalp and both staying in place. Or it gets tossed on Cher. "Save that for me," I say to her, repeating the phrase she used as a little girl whenever she liked what I was wearing and wanted me to keep it for her to grow into. "I'm gonna need it when cancer strikes, " I start to say, but manage to garble into obscurity.

See what I mean? Good moms don't instigate, no matter the material. They don't stir things up for a reaction. That's what clever aunts and uncles are for. Good moms are equipped with vocal filters designed to encourage sibling peace and respect. On the other hand, I am always listed on the Nice side.

Goo. Pass it on.