Reposted from The W(H)INE Monologue
Let’s face it. The conversations in my house are anything but normal. When one of your children has been Blessed by both parents’ smart ass and witty nature, it is a true recipe for trouble against the younger siblings who aren’t nearly as quick witted or as linguistically clever as she. Normally, she and I are on the same team; but on occasion, she actually thinks she can out best me.
It was early spring and we had just moved from a crappy little apartment into a spacious house. Being that it was cool outside, the windows were open, along with the back sliding door and we were all piled into the kitchen, talking and laughing, while preparing dinner. Nothing unusual, right?
Next thing I remember is Liv pressed up against the screen door, yelling, “LOOK! LOOK! It’s one of those poisonous SKANKS!” While everyone roars with laughter and the girls rib shank each other for a better view of the slinking purple-y, black and blue ground dweller sunning on the back patio, I nonchalantly utter , “Liv, that’s a SKINK, not a skank” (pause – and under my breath) “Although I suppose it could be a skanky skink”. It’s at this point I realize the laughing has subsided into snickering and the culprits, Allie and Kass, are doing their own retile-y version of the skink, as they slowly back away from the question asker. I look up and shake my head at them because I know the inevitable is about to occur… and sure enough, as the child stands staring at the creature through the web messed screen, “Mom, what does skank mean?” Kass falls to the floor, doubled over and convulsing from a fit of laughter taking over her body. Allie, smart ass that she is, raises an eyebrow and smirkingly asks, “Yes, mom. What IS a skank?” As she seeks safety on the other side of the kitchen, I glare at her. Not missing a beat and certainly not wanting to ensure in a skanky skink conversation with the 10 year old, I provide a seemingly innocent textbook definition answer to the inquisitive child, “A skank is an unclean girl.” Whew! I signal my short lived triumph as I righteously stick my tongue out at my mini-me instigator. She’s still snickering. Kass is still rolling and Liv? Well, Liv turns to me, holding out her filthy clothing, and questions, “You mean like me?”
Moral: Never confuse a skink for a skank.