We had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on the mat in our bathroom. We have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old.
The middle one is Eli. Eli really loved chap stick. LOVED it. He kept asking to use my chap stick and then losing it.
Finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom that I kept my chapstick and explained he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer after he finished because I used it sometimes several times a day.
That year, on Mother's Day, we were having the typical rush around to try to get ready for church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box.
I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood.
We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car, and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally go into the bathroom. There was Eli. He was applying my chap stick very carefully to Jack's rear end. Eli looked right into my eyes and said "chapped..." Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right - their little bottoms do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn't seem to mind. And the only question to ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat's behind or the hundredth!?! And THAT is my favorite Mother's Day moment ever, because it reminds us that no matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize... they've been using your chapstick on the cat's butt.
1st woman: It wasn't so bad. After I quit shaking from the cold, I began to get warm & sleepy, and finally died a peaceful death. What about you?
2nd woman: I died of a massive heart attack. I suspected that my husband was cheating, so I came home early to catch him in the act. But instead, I found him all by himself in the den watching TV.
1st woman: So, what happened?
2nd woman: I was so sure there was another woman there somewhere that I started running all over the house looking.. I ran up into the attic and searched, and down into the basement. Then I went through every closet and checked under all the beds. I kept this up until I had looked everywhere, and finally I became so exhausted that I just keeled over with a heart attack and died.
1st woman: Too bad you didn't look in the freezer---we'd both still be alive.
You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house -- mowing the lawn, putting up a new fence, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot, sweaty, and covered in dirt or paint. You have your old work clothes on: Shorts with a hole in the crotch, old T-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.
Right in the middle of this great home-improvement project you realize you need to run to Home Depot to get something to complete the job. Depending on your age you might do the following:
In your 20s: Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favourite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. And you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30s: Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favourite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.
In your 40s: Stop what you are doing.. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute Cologne is almost empty so you don't want to waste any on a trip to Home Depot. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird even thinking she's pretty.
In your 50s: Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on; wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Check yourself in the mirror and you swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The Cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it; but then you remember the hat you have on is from Buddy's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, "I Got Worms."
In your 60s: Stop what you are doing. No need for even a quick check in the mirror anymore. Or the cologne. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out of your shorts. The girl running the register may be cute, but you don't have your glasses on so you aren't sure.
In your 70s: Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug store has your prescriptions ready, too. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her aging grandfather.
In your 80s: Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Go to Wal-Mart instead and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. You fart out loud and think someone called out your name. You went to school with the old lady who greeted you at the front door. Now you remember you needed to go to Home Depot.
In your 90s & beyond: What's is a home deep hoe? Something for my garden? Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this? Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?