My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Shaddup Ya Filthy Coppers!

Bugs Bunny: Timeless Classic or Bad Influence? You be the judge. While Dusty was home last week recovering from illness, she got to watch hours and hours of Bugs cartoons. Normally, my husband and I don’t let her watch much television. When she’s sick, the ban is lifted, because when you’re sick and you can’t even read yet, what else is there to do? So, she and my husband, who was also sick, watched pretty much 10,003 cartoons that day and I overheard the following,

Dusty: “Robbers say a lot of bad words. Daddy, don’t robbers say a lot of bad words? He told Bugs to ‘shut up’! That’s not nice. You shouldn’t say, ‘shut up.’”

Then, on Saturday, on our way to yet another birthday party (just please kill me – I am so over the preschool birthday party as a social event; this one had a Strawberry Shortcake theme), Dusty saw a police car headed in our direction.

“I saw a police car. Mommy, was that a police?”


”Filthy coppers!”


My husband is instructing her on The Man and condones this kind of thing. Not that I don’t, but, I really don’t want to be pulled over one day and have Dusty scream, “Filthy Coppers!” while the policeperson bends over and asks for my license and registration. Not that s/he won’t deserve the sobriquet, but it doesn’t look good and might get me a moving violation when I might have just gotten something less.

Dusty has also said, “Eat my dust, Grandma!” when I’ve had to pass an oldster or two on the long country roads we travel. I have a feeling that when Dusty starts school, I’m going to be hearing from the principal’s office on a weekly basis. Dusty Fights The Power! Stick it to The Man, Dusty!

On the same birthday party car ride, Dusty and I listened to the Beatles Anthology and somehow got on the subject of the Fab Four.

“Paul and Ringo are the only ones still alive. The others are dead,” she informed me.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“When do you think they’ll die?”

“I don’t know. Probably not any time soon.”

“Are they really old?”

“Mmm, well, they’re Grandma’s age.”

“Are they sick?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Do the Beatles have kids? Do they have girls?”

“Yes, they have children. Paul has girls and a boy. John has boys and so does George. I don’t know about Ringo.” And I’m having this in-depth discussion with a four-year-old.

“What are their names?”

So, I name all the Beatle children that I can think of and Dusty’s satisfied. For now. But, that mind never stops.

And, in Red’s world, she is still waking up three times a night and making me crazy but, gosh she sure is cute these days and can now stand alone, unaided, on her two little feet for a whole minute before crashing down on her butt.

She likes to grind her four little teeth and make this grating, grinding sound that causes all my hair to stand on end. And, to bring this whole thing full-circle, the Merrie Melodies theme music makes her laugh. While the sick people were staked out in the family room watching Bugs and Daffy, Red and I quarantined ourselves (again) against them in the bedroom and every time a cartoon would begin or end, Red would giggle or get this happy kind of swoony look in her eyes like she'd just heard the sound of a million heavenly harps. Kind of the opposite of the crazy cleaning woman from Curb Your Enthusiasm (if I’m referencing this correctly) who worked for Warner Brothers or something and was driven insane by the theme.

And may I just say: Yay spring! And clap with my little Red hands? Not a moment too soon, if you ask me.


2:42 p.m. ::
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