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Jett Superior laid this on you on || May 24, 2001 || 12:22 am

Sam and Scout typically go to church with their father on Wednesday nights. Tonight was no exception.

Upon them returning home, I was helping Scout get ready for bed. She’s my ‘Broken Kid’ (as Dirk so smashingly refers to her)….the wrists, remember??

She and I were talking, and she was excitedly sharing with me:

“I love to read the bible, mommy! Tonight I was going through Genius and Zookeriah and Isaac and Revolutions….”

Ohhhh, buddy. I should win Oscars for my ability to keep a straight face in times like these. Pass the FarmerJohn cheese….

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Sort of on the same subject, but only in that it also involves said ‘Broken Kid’. If you weren’t around a few weeks back, I’ll fill you in. Scout had a go-round with the monkey bars at school. The monkey bars kicked her ass and broke both wrists in the process.

Due to the kind of casts the doc put on her, her lower arms have to be covered in plastic whenever she bathes. If not, the casts would turn to mush. Thank God she thinks it’s funny as hell to wear two blue Wal-Mart bags, the handles tied up around her elbows, into the bathtub.

When she went back to the doc a couple days back, she was happy to hear that the squirrelly little Italian (the only other dago on this mountain other than me) would hack one cast off of her.

Alas, the other one had to remain. Scout was reasonably disappointed.

We have a 5-day trip to the Gulf Coast scheduled to start Friday. ~drat.~

So Maxim and I are lounging after the children go to bed and I brought up the topic of not wanting to have to make her clamor around the beach in a Wal-Mart bag covered with an assload of duct tape……duct tape because at the beach splashing and sand are involved, unlike the tub at home. Gotta make that sucker sand- and water-tight.

I mentioned wishing I had some thick, clear plastic (visqueen, d00d). —here is where I laugh and laugh– Maxim says, “Hey, what about a condom?”

Funny, about the same time I was thinking of cutting the top off of one of those paddle balloons and using it with a little duct tape around the top. But to get back on track….

Condom. Yeah. NOT.

“Uh, NO, dillhole!” and we both cracked up.

“One of the extra-extra-large kind?” he asked. “NO! NO WAAAY, man!”

Then his Maxim-esque brilliance shone through.

Rubber Gloves! You know, the dishwashing kind with a little duct tape around the top.”

Such a simple solution, but inventive. Inventiveness is hella sexy, rowrrr.

I settled on the extra-thick, furniture-stripping variety. Rubber on them is a little thicker, therefore not as puncture-prone. Voila.

Now to sell Scout on the idea. She’s funky and weird like her mom, but I don’t know to what degree.

Fucking monkeybars.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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