By: Angela Gillaspie © Spring 1997
I am sitting here at my computer bawling over bananas. "Simple bananas?" You ask. Well kind reader, an evil bunch of beastly bananas attacked my three angelic children about ten minutes ago. My precious children, aged five, three, and eight months could never make a mess this size. I know this for a fact because all I have to do is tell them "No," and they stop the bad behavior immediately and reply, "Yes Mommy, to love is to obey."
The incident occurred when I left the room and made a three-minute telephone call to my dear husband. When I left the living room, the two oldest kids were heading into the kitchen for a snack while the eight-month-old was happily playing with his stacking rings. I reminded the older two, "No eating in the living room, OK?" They replied, "OK."
I am very secure with my kids. They know right from wrong. They never disobey. They never play in the cat's litter box, nor do they leave their toys in the middle of the floor. They never whine, nor yell in the house; they never interrupt a conversation, and they always put their dishes in the sink when they are finished eating (after politely asking to be excused, of course). They never get dirty nor do they play with bugs. They never argue or hit each other; my house is filled with bliss. Yes, I am blessed with perfect, obeying children.
There was complete silence while the attack occurred; during my brief telephone call, I heard nothing. I got my first clue that something was amiss when I hung up the telephone and heard my five-year-old daughter comment, "Aw man, I'll clean it up." "How odd," I thought to myself, "my children never make messes." When I arrived in the living room, the following horrific scene unfolded before my eyes: The eight-month-old was sitting in the floor with half of a hairy banana in his hand (from being on the floor no less), and banana shrapnel was on his face, arms, shirt, shorts, legs, feet and in his mouth and in his hair. The other half of the mutilated banana was lying in pieces and partially smashed into the carpet.
The three-year-old was sitting on the couch eating a banana and grinning, "I jus' love nananas." The five-year-old was clasping a banana in her right hand and was attempting to 'sweep' up the battered banana from the floor with the carpet sweeper using her left hand.
"Don't worry Mommy, I'll clean it up!" She told me.
From what I can tell, apparently a frightful battle of child versus banana was waged in my living room, and the children won! I was so thrilled! Never mind that there were banana guts everywhere staining everything -- my kids fought a great battle and were tasting a sweet victory! To keep the banana contamination from getting out of hand, I asked my beloved children to go to the dining room table and finish their victory snack. I was slightly annoyed that the baby was involved in such a graphic display of misfortune. Why did the bananas attack him? He is so small and innocent! He evidently fought a courageous battle just like his older two siblings had; it pained me to take away his hard fought for trophy banana, but he is too young to be chomping on a whole banana. I scooped up my sweet and sticky baby, cleaned him off, and placed him in his playpen.
When I returned from scraping banana parts off my youngest child, little did I know that the battle was still raging. The bananas again attacked the older two kids. From what I can piece together, I believe the tussle started in the dining room, because there was a slimy trail of bananas that started from the dining room table and led down onto the dining room carpeted floor. The banana trail continued onto the kitchen floor and eventually went up the side of the garbage can where, I assume, the defeated bananas met their demise.
It looked as if the kids were again triumphant! The children were now outside playing in the sand box, and kitchen door was left open. Since my kids always shut the door behind them, I reckoned that this is how the evil bananas entered the house. I looked out at the kids and whispered, "Bless their hearts." In their attempt to flee the bananas, they did not take the time to wash off the remaining pieces and smears of banana on their clothing and legs. Sand was now matted to the sticky banana residue on my children. I was so overcome by this sight that I began crying uncontrollably, and now here I am, locked in my room bawling about bananas; the mixture of emotions is so hard to describe.
How could I abandon those helpless little tikes to make a telephone call while such a tragedy was taking place? Those poor children; they must have been terrified. As I attempt to pull myself together, I feel a surge of pride for my kids. In the face of such adversity, they persevered! I had no idea that bananas could be so bad. So be warned kind reader, you had better think twice before you leave bananas and young children unattended. Bananas can attack with no warning. The inevitable will happen; I know, I have the emotional scars and stains.
Stay tuned for more SouthernAngel's wanton thoughts!