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prance_legolasSorry for the big time jump here, with that last chapter happening in late August, and now this chapter happening the last week of November. The Friday after Thanksgiving, to be exact. The official start of Christmas season.
This is a “to be continued” chapter. I will tell you up front, so you aren’t worried about me not getting it finished before next week. "Next week?" you ask. "What's so special about next week?"
Ah, next week. I don’t wanna talk about it.
Chapter 19 Going Bye Bye
Well, the turkey’s carved, the potatoes devoured, the bread buttered, and the vegetables consumed. The table’s been cleared, the pots and pans washed, the china plates dried and returned to the cabinets from whence they came. The football game’s over. Another Thanksgiving Day has come to an end.
Friday dawns bright and clear. I can hear Lil’ Pip and Legolas stirring around in the den already. Yes Dear’s in the shower, and the minute I make the slightest movement, Mikey the cat takes it upon himself to jump onto the bed and make biscuits on my head to assure I get up. I swear Yes Dear taught him that trick, and he pays him in cat treats to do it daily.
After I dress, I head to the kitchen where I find Legolas excitedly standing at the back door, shifting his weight from foot to foot in his anticipation.
“Leedle Peep sez we ar goen bie bie en da vaen!” he announces. Not even a good morning—he gets right to his point.
“That’s right, Legolas,” I answer. “Did you get some breakfast yet?”
“She sez we ar goen oen a loeng treep tudae. She sez we ar goen tu fiend a Chreestmiss Trea!” He’s so happy, he’s positively giddy.
I don’t really want to get him any more worked up at this point, so I keep it low key. “Right again,” I say. “Now, I need you to go get ready so you don’t get left here, okay?”
“Okae!” He’s still standing by the door, swaying side to side. He’s also still wearing his pajamas. Remember the baby balrog britches? Well, I never got them back. This morning the BBB’s are complemented by a navy blue T-shirt with a huge Elmo face that proclaims ‘Elmo Loves You!’ and on his feet are Yes Dear’s Winnie the Pooh slippers.
I pour some of his favorite Oat Bran Flakes into a bowl and add some dried fruit and extra raisins. Sticking a spoon into the bowl, I turn to find he hasn’t budged an inch forward or back, though the side to side movement continues. He’s grinning madly.
“Legolas?”
“Yaes?”
“Can you eat this for me?”
“Okae!”
I hand him the bowl and watch while he stands in place and shovels the cereal in. In about six gulps, he hands me the empty bowl and resumes swaying.
It’s gonna be one of those days.
Some days he’s my strong mature Elven warrior, and other days I’m painfully reminded that he’s still very young for an immortal. I head to the bedroom, where I lay out his clothes for him. He’s obviously way past doing it himself this morning. To the jeans and undershirt, I add a Christmas sweatshirt with a cat wearing reindeer antlers and a pair of red boxer shorts with tiny green and gold presents bearing gift tags that say, “Don’t Open Until X-Mas!” on them. I make a mental note to be sure to check that he remembers the boxers go UNDER the jeans.
“Legolas!” I call him. “Come here, please!”
“Ar we goen yeat?” he inquires as he pokes his nose through the bedroom doorway.
“You need to dress first,“ I answer. “Put these on, and then go brush your teeth. Then we’ll be almost ready, okay?”
“Okae!” He looks at the sweatshirt. “Dis keetie duzn’t luuk tu haeppie. Whut’z da maettr wid heem?”
“Most cats fail to see the humor in wearing things other than fur on their heads,” I reply.
“Whut iz dat oen heez hed? He luukz like a dear!”
“Those are antlers. He’s supposed to be one of Santa’s reindeer.”
He giggles. “Weel, he DUZ luuk seely!”
I leave him to dress, gathering up the rest of the things we’ll need for the trip. A few minutes later I find him once again standing at the back door, waiting patiently. Thankfully, the boxers are under the jeans. At least, I think so; I don’t see them. My curiosity gets the best of me, so I sneak the opportunity to lift his shirt in the back to see. Yep, there’s a bit of red poking out of the top of the pants. Perfect.
Well, almost perfect. I hand him the card with our address and phone number on it. Just in case I get lost again, you see. He still hasn’t mastered the numbers, probably a little dyslexic in my opinion, but we’ve practiced with the card and he does just fine. After all, most of the time even I have to really think about it when I’m out somewhere and I need to dial the number to my own home. You just never call yourself, right?
He gives me a sheepish grin, pocketing the card. “I aelmoest furgot it, deedn’t I?” he says.
Suddenly there’s a cacophony of noises coming down the hallway. You’d think we had an oliphant in the house from the sound of things.
“I’m ready!” announces Lil’ Pip, dragging a loaded bookbag, a coat, and Shadow her stuffed dog, who’s wearing a custom-made Santa suit hand crocheted by none other than the “Grammar Laedee” herself.
“What have you got in there?” I ask, incredulous.
“Why?” she asks back. Funny, a part of me thought she’d say, ‘Nothing.’
“Just curious,” I say.
“Well, I’ve got some art stuff, and....”
“Aert stuef?” Legolas turns from the door, coming to peer into Lil’ Pip’s bookbag. He LIKES her art stuff.
“Yeah. I’ve got a sketch book, and markers, and some gel pens, and some books to read and....”
“An sum Beeny Baebeez!” crows the Prance. “I lub Beeny Baebeez!”
“Go on and put it in the van,” I tell them. “Then come back and go use the bathroom one more time.”
“But I just did!” whines Lil’ Pip.
“Try again anyway,” I cajole. “You too, Legolas.”
“Okae!” he throws back over his shoulder as he bounds out the opened door and down the steps.
Ten minutes later, we’re all finally in the car. Yes Dear’s a little miffed, as he’d wanted to leave an hour earlier. Lil’ Pip and Legolas are still bickering over who gets to sit on which side in the backseat, with Lil’ Pip trying to explain why switching sides for the ride home will not work.
“You have to keep the same side in the car on the way back if you want to see the other side of the mountain,” she says for the umpteenth time.
“Noe u doent,” he counters.
“Yes, you do.”
“Noe u doent.”
“Yes, you do.”
Noe u doent.”
Then finally, the phrase I’ve been expecting, “Momma! He’s hopeless!”
“Am noet!” comes his curt reply.
“Knock it off, both of you,” I interrupt.
“We’ll take two different roads, okay?” says Yes Dear, settling the problem, at least for now.
We pass through town and head out through the countryside, singing Christmas carols as we go. My favorite is ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’, which is great fun as Legolas learns the tenor part rapidly and we can have a full choir on the “Gloooooooowrea, en eggshellsis Dayeo” part. Yes Dear votes for ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’, and Lil’ Pip teaches us all the alternative verses to ‘Jingle Bells, Batman Smells’.
Legolas picks ‘Away In A Manger’, and with tears in his eyes, says “Dat poar leedle baebee, at leest Elbereth wuz dere tu wach ober heem.”
About thirty minutes after we leave the house, Legolas says from the backseat, “Ar we dere yeat?”
“No, dear, it’s a couple of hours until we get to where we’re going. You’ll see the mountains a long time before we get there.”
Silence ensues. Not anything near what I expected. Surprised at the lack of questions, I turn around and ask,” Is everything okay?”
Legolas hangs his head, and sheepishly admits, “I havta goe tu da bafruum.”
“I thought you went before we left?” I ask.
“I deed. Noe I hav tu goe agin.”
I glance at Yes Dear, who has the exasperated father look on his face.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he says. “He’ll have to wait.”
“Yes Dear said you’ll....”
“I herd heem. I hav elvis eerz, u noe.” He crosses his legs and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
In about five minutes, Yes Dear pulls up outside a decrepit old country gas station, one of those with the single pump outside that looks like it needed renovation the day I was born. “Will this do?” he asks me.
“Come on, Legolas. Let’s go find the bathroom,” I say, opening the door.
“Whut?” he says.
“I said, Let’s go-”
“I herd u. I hav elvis eerz, u noe. I done’t hav tu goe tu da bafruum animoer. It wuz jest an elvis miest.”
“He means he farted, Momma,” says Lil’ Pip, holding her nose.
I whack Yes Dear on the arm as he turns to say something unbecoming to the Prance. “Just keep driving,” I say.
We continue along uneventfully for the next hour or so, if you consider the occasional squabble over the gel pens from the back seat uneventful. We move peacefully onto the Interstate, surprised at how little traffic there is for the Friday after Thanksgiving. “Everyone must be at the mall in Greenville,” states Yes Dear.
“Maybe all of them are already at the tree farm, Daddy. There won’t be any trees left when we get there!” Lil’ Pip exclaims in a worried voice.
“I’m sure there’ll be some left,” I tell her, noting the worried look on Legolas’ face as well. “They have a whole forest full of them.”
We exit the Interstate and pass through one of the local college towns. You can tell what the team mascot is by the six-foot wide tiger paws painted on the road as you go along.
“WOEW!” gasps Legolas from the backseat. Before I can stop him, he’s unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the window, and is hanging out from the hips up looking down at the paw prints as we roll past them at close to sixty miles per hour. Lil’ Pip grabs him as he almost pitches out, pulling back on the waistband of the red Christmas boxers for all she’s worth.
“MOMMA!” she screams to me. “LOOK WHAT HE’S DOING NOW!!!”
“LEGOLAS!!!!” I shout, leaning back to grab a handful of the boxers myself to keep him from falling out the window as Yes Dear quickly brakes.
“DOSE AR DA BEEGIST WAERG FEAT I HAV EBER SEAN!!!” he whoops excitedly out the window, blond hair whipping in the wind. “WHAR DEED U PUET MY BOE?”
“GET BACK IN HERE!!” demands Yes Dear.
Legolas pulls his head back into the van. “Whut?” he inquires. “Deedn’t u sea dem? We weel nead my boe an aroz if dere iz won dat beeg hear!”
My heart’s pounding too hard to answer him. Yes Dear looks like he might like to use that bow himself, but I don’t want to think how and where. Lil’ Pip’s the one who comes to the rescue this time.
“They aren’t real, dummy! Those are painted on paw prints, from the college!”
“Whut kiend of moenstr iz a kawlidge?” says Legolas. “I doent thank I hav eber sean a kawlidge beafour.”
Lil’ Pip rolls her eyes. “It’s not a monster,” she says, “It’s a school, like my school, but for grownups.”
Legolas stares at her with eyes wide, then gives her the Thranduil eyebrow.
“The football team paints them on there, to show the way to the football field, and to scare off the opposing team,“ I tell him. “There are no monsters or animals up here that are that big anywhere. Now put your seat belt back on.”
“Oooohhh....” says the Prance, settling back into his seat.
“There’s a Wendy’s,” says Yes Dear. “I’m stopping to get lunch.” He pulls the van over, taking the first parking space available.
We pile out of the van. Lil’ Pip’s skipping across the parking lot, babbling about what choices are available for what will merely be second breakfast for her. She’ll ask again for elevensies, even though she’ll be a little late with her request. Yes Dear’s right behind her, already salivating.
As I pull the sliding door closed on the van, I have to suppress a giggle. Poor Legolas has a good eight inches of Christmas boxers hanging out of the top of his jeans where Lil’ Pip has given him the Wedgie From Hell. He’s trying nonchalantly to pull them back into place, looking around at the landscaping and the advertisements and whistling as he picks and tugs unsuccessfully.
“Still need that bathroom?” I ask. “This would be a good time to go.”
“Ummm.... Yeas, I due thank I nead tu goe,” he answers.
A few minutes later, he meets me at the counter, looking fresh as a flower and none the worse for wear. He orders French fries and a Frosty, heedless of the fact that it’s forty degrees Fahrenheit outside. I order my own meal, and add some chili and a Mello Yello for him. After the fries and Frosty are gone, he polishes off the chili as well.
Within half an hour, we’re back on the road again. As Yes Dear brakes for the first stoplight just past the Wendy’s restaurant, Legolas lets out a war cry loud enough to rattle my brains.
“DERE DEY AR!!” he shrieks, leaning across a shocked Lil’ Pip to point out the window.
Following his arm, I see what’s grabbed his attention. It’s a Christmas tree lot of cut trees being sold by one of the local charitable organizations.
“AN DERE’Z SAENTA KLAWSE!!” he crows, scrambling out of his seatbelt and over Lil’ Pip to the window. He jerks the window open, waving desperately, “HAE SAENTA!! HAE! IT’Z ME! LEGOLAS!!!! WE’AR HARE!!”
“This isn’t it, you... you....AAUUGGHHH!!!” shouts Lil’ Pip, hauling him back from the window, this time by the collar of his sweatshirt. “And that’s NOT Santa Claus!”
Hurt and surprised at this news, Legolas stares open mouthed at her, half-standing in the space between the seats. “Den whoe iz it?” he challenges, scowling.
Yes Dear gets the green light and pulls ahead, throwing the Prance back into his seat. “Put your seatbelt back on!” I bark at him.
“Whoe iz it?” he questions Lil’ Pip again as he fastens the buckle.
“It’s just some man dressed up in a Santa suit! Everybody knows that!” she yells, exasperated.
“Noe itz noet!”
“Yes it is!”
“Noe itz noet!”
“Yes it is!”
“Iz noet!”
“Is too!”
“Iz noet!”
“MOMMA!”
“I wish this van had headphones for the radio,” mumbles Yes Dear, not about to get into this argument.
Turning in my seat, I try to explain. “Legolas, dear,” I start, “Lil’ Pip’s right. That’s a man dressed up in a Santa suit. You’ll see that all over the place for the next several weeks.”
“Aen Empoestr??!!” he gasps, startled to the core.
“Well, sort of. These men dress up like Santa, then gather the lists of little children everywhere and report to the real Santa Claus to tell him what to bring on Christmas night.”
“The REAL Santa Claus at the North Pole. The one that has the ELVES and the REINDEER,” scoffs Lil’ Pip.
Legolas considers this for a moment. “I hav sean dose elves,” he contemplates. “I thot dey maed kuukiez?”
“Not THOSE elves!” huffs Lil’ Pip. “These elves make toys!”
“Ooeehh....“ concedes the Prance.
We travel on about four miles more before his alarm goes off again. “WE’AR HARE!”he shouts from the backseat as Yes Dear stops for the light. Sure enough, there sits a Christmas tree lot on the right.
“No, Legolas,” I say, motioning for him to sit back down. “We still have to go up onto the mountain to get to the place where we’re going.”
By the fifth Christmas tree lot we pass, Yes Dear mumbles again, “I sure wish this van had headphones for the radio.”
When “HARE WE AR!” rolls out for the eighth time, Lil’ Pip can stand it no more. “Would you PUHLEASE SHUT UP!!!” she hollers at him.
His disappointment’s palpable. “Sorrie....” he mutters, head hanging. Fortunately, we have just made the turn onto the final leg of our journey. Only thirty miles left until we reach our destination.
Unfortunately, this thirty-mile part of the trip takes at least an hour to make, for it rapidly begins a steep ten percent uphill grade, and is full of hairpin turns and switchbacks.
“At least there’ll be no Christmas tree lots for the next thirty miles,” I whisper to Yes Dear.
“God, I hope not,” he answers, rolling his eyes toward heaven.
Lil’ Pip perks up at the first curve. She begins singing, ”Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go,” followed by, “The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see.”
When she finishes, and after joining her as best he can on the chorus parts, Legolas exclaims, “Weal, dat maekz sanse! Whut aelse wuz daat bare eggspektin?”
Before long the excitement of turning left and right and left and right wears off, and both of them are soon looking out the windows, watching the cold mountain stream that meanders along the side of the roadway as it flows downhill past us. In about ten minutes, the backseat’s so quiet I begin to wonder if we’ve experienced a Twilight Zone moment and the two of them have been magically teleported out of the backseat and into some alternate universe. Turning around in my own seat, I’m caught unawares at the sight my eyes behold.
I didn’t know elves could do that.
This is a “to be continued” chapter. I will tell you up front, so you aren’t worried about me not getting it finished before next week. "Next week?" you ask. "What's so special about next week?"
Ah, next week. I don’t wanna talk about it.
Well, the turkey’s carved, the potatoes devoured, the bread buttered, and the vegetables consumed. The table’s been cleared, the pots and pans washed, the china plates dried and returned to the cabinets from whence they came. The football game’s over. Another Thanksgiving Day has come to an end.
Friday dawns bright and clear. I can hear Lil’ Pip and Legolas stirring around in the den already. Yes Dear’s in the shower, and the minute I make the slightest movement, Mikey the cat takes it upon himself to jump onto the bed and make biscuits on my head to assure I get up. I swear Yes Dear taught him that trick, and he pays him in cat treats to do it daily.
After I dress, I head to the kitchen where I find Legolas excitedly standing at the back door, shifting his weight from foot to foot in his anticipation.
“Leedle Peep sez we ar goen bie bie en da vaen!” he announces. Not even a good morning—he gets right to his point.
“That’s right, Legolas,” I answer. “Did you get some breakfast yet?”
“She sez we ar goen oen a loeng treep tudae. She sez we ar goen tu fiend a Chreestmiss Trea!” He’s so happy, he’s positively giddy.
I don’t really want to get him any more worked up at this point, so I keep it low key. “Right again,” I say. “Now, I need you to go get ready so you don’t get left here, okay?”
“Okae!” He’s still standing by the door, swaying side to side. He’s also still wearing his pajamas. Remember the baby balrog britches? Well, I never got them back. This morning the BBB’s are complemented by a navy blue T-shirt with a huge Elmo face that proclaims ‘Elmo Loves You!’ and on his feet are Yes Dear’s Winnie the Pooh slippers.
I pour some of his favorite Oat Bran Flakes into a bowl and add some dried fruit and extra raisins. Sticking a spoon into the bowl, I turn to find he hasn’t budged an inch forward or back, though the side to side movement continues. He’s grinning madly.
“Legolas?”
“Yaes?”
“Can you eat this for me?”
“Okae!”
I hand him the bowl and watch while he stands in place and shovels the cereal in. In about six gulps, he hands me the empty bowl and resumes swaying.
It’s gonna be one of those days.
Some days he’s my strong mature Elven warrior, and other days I’m painfully reminded that he’s still very young for an immortal. I head to the bedroom, where I lay out his clothes for him. He’s obviously way past doing it himself this morning. To the jeans and undershirt, I add a Christmas sweatshirt with a cat wearing reindeer antlers and a pair of red boxer shorts with tiny green and gold presents bearing gift tags that say, “Don’t Open Until X-Mas!” on them. I make a mental note to be sure to check that he remembers the boxers go UNDER the jeans.
“Legolas!” I call him. “Come here, please!”
“Ar we goen yeat?” he inquires as he pokes his nose through the bedroom doorway.
“You need to dress first,“ I answer. “Put these on, and then go brush your teeth. Then we’ll be almost ready, okay?”
“Okae!” He looks at the sweatshirt. “Dis keetie duzn’t luuk tu haeppie. Whut’z da maettr wid heem?”
“Most cats fail to see the humor in wearing things other than fur on their heads,” I reply.
“Whut iz dat oen heez hed? He luukz like a dear!”
“Those are antlers. He’s supposed to be one of Santa’s reindeer.”
He giggles. “Weel, he DUZ luuk seely!”
I leave him to dress, gathering up the rest of the things we’ll need for the trip. A few minutes later I find him once again standing at the back door, waiting patiently. Thankfully, the boxers are under the jeans. At least, I think so; I don’t see them. My curiosity gets the best of me, so I sneak the opportunity to lift his shirt in the back to see. Yep, there’s a bit of red poking out of the top of the pants. Perfect.
Well, almost perfect. I hand him the card with our address and phone number on it. Just in case I get lost again, you see. He still hasn’t mastered the numbers, probably a little dyslexic in my opinion, but we’ve practiced with the card and he does just fine. After all, most of the time even I have to really think about it when I’m out somewhere and I need to dial the number to my own home. You just never call yourself, right?
He gives me a sheepish grin, pocketing the card. “I aelmoest furgot it, deedn’t I?” he says.
Suddenly there’s a cacophony of noises coming down the hallway. You’d think we had an oliphant in the house from the sound of things.
“I’m ready!” announces Lil’ Pip, dragging a loaded bookbag, a coat, and Shadow her stuffed dog, who’s wearing a custom-made Santa suit hand crocheted by none other than the “Grammar Laedee” herself.
“What have you got in there?” I ask, incredulous.
“Why?” she asks back. Funny, a part of me thought she’d say, ‘Nothing.’
“Just curious,” I say.
“Well, I’ve got some art stuff, and....”
“Aert stuef?” Legolas turns from the door, coming to peer into Lil’ Pip’s bookbag. He LIKES her art stuff.
“Yeah. I’ve got a sketch book, and markers, and some gel pens, and some books to read and....”
“An sum Beeny Baebeez!” crows the Prance. “I lub Beeny Baebeez!”
“Go on and put it in the van,” I tell them. “Then come back and go use the bathroom one more time.”
“But I just did!” whines Lil’ Pip.
“Try again anyway,” I cajole. “You too, Legolas.”
“Okae!” he throws back over his shoulder as he bounds out the opened door and down the steps.
Ten minutes later, we’re all finally in the car. Yes Dear’s a little miffed, as he’d wanted to leave an hour earlier. Lil’ Pip and Legolas are still bickering over who gets to sit on which side in the backseat, with Lil’ Pip trying to explain why switching sides for the ride home will not work.
“You have to keep the same side in the car on the way back if you want to see the other side of the mountain,” she says for the umpteenth time.
“Noe u doent,” he counters.
“Yes, you do.”
“Noe u doent.”
“Yes, you do.”
Noe u doent.”
Then finally, the phrase I’ve been expecting, “Momma! He’s hopeless!”
“Am noet!” comes his curt reply.
“Knock it off, both of you,” I interrupt.
“We’ll take two different roads, okay?” says Yes Dear, settling the problem, at least for now.
We pass through town and head out through the countryside, singing Christmas carols as we go. My favorite is ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’, which is great fun as Legolas learns the tenor part rapidly and we can have a full choir on the “Gloooooooowrea, en eggshellsis Dayeo” part. Yes Dear votes for ‘Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’, and Lil’ Pip teaches us all the alternative verses to ‘Jingle Bells, Batman Smells’.
Legolas picks ‘Away In A Manger’, and with tears in his eyes, says “Dat poar leedle baebee, at leest Elbereth wuz dere tu wach ober heem.”
About thirty minutes after we leave the house, Legolas says from the backseat, “Ar we dere yeat?”
“No, dear, it’s a couple of hours until we get to where we’re going. You’ll see the mountains a long time before we get there.”
Silence ensues. Not anything near what I expected. Surprised at the lack of questions, I turn around and ask,” Is everything okay?”
Legolas hangs his head, and sheepishly admits, “I havta goe tu da bafruum.”
“I thought you went before we left?” I ask.
“I deed. Noe I hav tu goe agin.”
I glance at Yes Dear, who has the exasperated father look on his face.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he says. “He’ll have to wait.”
“Yes Dear said you’ll....”
“I herd heem. I hav elvis eerz, u noe.” He crosses his legs and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
In about five minutes, Yes Dear pulls up outside a decrepit old country gas station, one of those with the single pump outside that looks like it needed renovation the day I was born. “Will this do?” he asks me.
“Come on, Legolas. Let’s go find the bathroom,” I say, opening the door.
“Whut?” he says.
“I said, Let’s go-”
“I herd u. I hav elvis eerz, u noe. I done’t hav tu goe tu da bafruum animoer. It wuz jest an elvis miest.”
“He means he farted, Momma,” says Lil’ Pip, holding her nose.
I whack Yes Dear on the arm as he turns to say something unbecoming to the Prance. “Just keep driving,” I say.
We continue along uneventfully for the next hour or so, if you consider the occasional squabble over the gel pens from the back seat uneventful. We move peacefully onto the Interstate, surprised at how little traffic there is for the Friday after Thanksgiving. “Everyone must be at the mall in Greenville,” states Yes Dear.
“Maybe all of them are already at the tree farm, Daddy. There won’t be any trees left when we get there!” Lil’ Pip exclaims in a worried voice.
“I’m sure there’ll be some left,” I tell her, noting the worried look on Legolas’ face as well. “They have a whole forest full of them.”
We exit the Interstate and pass through one of the local college towns. You can tell what the team mascot is by the six-foot wide tiger paws painted on the road as you go along.
“WOEW!” gasps Legolas from the backseat. Before I can stop him, he’s unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the window, and is hanging out from the hips up looking down at the paw prints as we roll past them at close to sixty miles per hour. Lil’ Pip grabs him as he almost pitches out, pulling back on the waistband of the red Christmas boxers for all she’s worth.
“MOMMA!” she screams to me. “LOOK WHAT HE’S DOING NOW!!!”
“LEGOLAS!!!!” I shout, leaning back to grab a handful of the boxers myself to keep him from falling out the window as Yes Dear quickly brakes.
“DOSE AR DA BEEGIST WAERG FEAT I HAV EBER SEAN!!!” he whoops excitedly out the window, blond hair whipping in the wind. “WHAR DEED U PUET MY BOE?”
“GET BACK IN HERE!!” demands Yes Dear.
Legolas pulls his head back into the van. “Whut?” he inquires. “Deedn’t u sea dem? We weel nead my boe an aroz if dere iz won dat beeg hear!”
My heart’s pounding too hard to answer him. Yes Dear looks like he might like to use that bow himself, but I don’t want to think how and where. Lil’ Pip’s the one who comes to the rescue this time.
“They aren’t real, dummy! Those are painted on paw prints, from the college!”
“Whut kiend of moenstr iz a kawlidge?” says Legolas. “I doent thank I hav eber sean a kawlidge beafour.”
Lil’ Pip rolls her eyes. “It’s not a monster,” she says, “It’s a school, like my school, but for grownups.”
Legolas stares at her with eyes wide, then gives her the Thranduil eyebrow.
“The football team paints them on there, to show the way to the football field, and to scare off the opposing team,“ I tell him. “There are no monsters or animals up here that are that big anywhere. Now put your seat belt back on.”
“Oooohhh....” says the Prance, settling back into his seat.
“There’s a Wendy’s,” says Yes Dear. “I’m stopping to get lunch.” He pulls the van over, taking the first parking space available.
We pile out of the van. Lil’ Pip’s skipping across the parking lot, babbling about what choices are available for what will merely be second breakfast for her. She’ll ask again for elevensies, even though she’ll be a little late with her request. Yes Dear’s right behind her, already salivating.
As I pull the sliding door closed on the van, I have to suppress a giggle. Poor Legolas has a good eight inches of Christmas boxers hanging out of the top of his jeans where Lil’ Pip has given him the Wedgie From Hell. He’s trying nonchalantly to pull them back into place, looking around at the landscaping and the advertisements and whistling as he picks and tugs unsuccessfully.
“Still need that bathroom?” I ask. “This would be a good time to go.”
“Ummm.... Yeas, I due thank I nead tu goe,” he answers.
A few minutes later, he meets me at the counter, looking fresh as a flower and none the worse for wear. He orders French fries and a Frosty, heedless of the fact that it’s forty degrees Fahrenheit outside. I order my own meal, and add some chili and a Mello Yello for him. After the fries and Frosty are gone, he polishes off the chili as well.
Within half an hour, we’re back on the road again. As Yes Dear brakes for the first stoplight just past the Wendy’s restaurant, Legolas lets out a war cry loud enough to rattle my brains.
“DERE DEY AR!!” he shrieks, leaning across a shocked Lil’ Pip to point out the window.
Following his arm, I see what’s grabbed his attention. It’s a Christmas tree lot of cut trees being sold by one of the local charitable organizations.
“AN DERE’Z SAENTA KLAWSE!!” he crows, scrambling out of his seatbelt and over Lil’ Pip to the window. He jerks the window open, waving desperately, “HAE SAENTA!! HAE! IT’Z ME! LEGOLAS!!!! WE’AR HARE!!”
“This isn’t it, you... you....AAUUGGHHH!!!” shouts Lil’ Pip, hauling him back from the window, this time by the collar of his sweatshirt. “And that’s NOT Santa Claus!”
Hurt and surprised at this news, Legolas stares open mouthed at her, half-standing in the space between the seats. “Den whoe iz it?” he challenges, scowling.
Yes Dear gets the green light and pulls ahead, throwing the Prance back into his seat. “Put your seatbelt back on!” I bark at him.
“Whoe iz it?” he questions Lil’ Pip again as he fastens the buckle.
“It’s just some man dressed up in a Santa suit! Everybody knows that!” she yells, exasperated.
“Noe itz noet!”
“Yes it is!”
“Noe itz noet!”
“Yes it is!”
“Iz noet!”
“Is too!”
“Iz noet!”
“MOMMA!”
“I wish this van had headphones for the radio,” mumbles Yes Dear, not about to get into this argument.
Turning in my seat, I try to explain. “Legolas, dear,” I start, “Lil’ Pip’s right. That’s a man dressed up in a Santa suit. You’ll see that all over the place for the next several weeks.”
“Aen Empoestr??!!” he gasps, startled to the core.
“Well, sort of. These men dress up like Santa, then gather the lists of little children everywhere and report to the real Santa Claus to tell him what to bring on Christmas night.”
“The REAL Santa Claus at the North Pole. The one that has the ELVES and the REINDEER,” scoffs Lil’ Pip.
Legolas considers this for a moment. “I hav sean dose elves,” he contemplates. “I thot dey maed kuukiez?”
“Not THOSE elves!” huffs Lil’ Pip. “These elves make toys!”
“Ooeehh....“ concedes the Prance.
We travel on about four miles more before his alarm goes off again. “WE’AR HARE!”he shouts from the backseat as Yes Dear stops for the light. Sure enough, there sits a Christmas tree lot on the right.
“No, Legolas,” I say, motioning for him to sit back down. “We still have to go up onto the mountain to get to the place where we’re going.”
By the fifth Christmas tree lot we pass, Yes Dear mumbles again, “I sure wish this van had headphones for the radio.”
When “HARE WE AR!” rolls out for the eighth time, Lil’ Pip can stand it no more. “Would you PUHLEASE SHUT UP!!!” she hollers at him.
His disappointment’s palpable. “Sorrie....” he mutters, head hanging. Fortunately, we have just made the turn onto the final leg of our journey. Only thirty miles left until we reach our destination.
Unfortunately, this thirty-mile part of the trip takes at least an hour to make, for it rapidly begins a steep ten percent uphill grade, and is full of hairpin turns and switchbacks.
“At least there’ll be no Christmas tree lots for the next thirty miles,” I whisper to Yes Dear.
“God, I hope not,” he answers, rolling his eyes toward heaven.
Lil’ Pip perks up at the first curve. She begins singing, ”Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go,” followed by, “The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see.”
When she finishes, and after joining her as best he can on the chorus parts, Legolas exclaims, “Weal, dat maekz sanse! Whut aelse wuz daat bare eggspektin?”
Before long the excitement of turning left and right and left and right wears off, and both of them are soon looking out the windows, watching the cold mountain stream that meanders along the side of the roadway as it flows downhill past us. In about ten minutes, the backseat’s so quiet I begin to wonder if we’ve experienced a Twilight Zone moment and the two of them have been magically teleported out of the backseat and into some alternate universe. Turning around in my own seat, I’m caught unawares at the sight my eyes behold.
I didn’t know elves could do that.
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Date: December 13th, 2005 05:29 am (UTC)Oh my, and the 'sibling squabbles'... *snorts*
And a cliffie! *glares*(but is STILL giggling)...
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Date: December 13th, 2005 06:49 am (UTC)OMG, the sibling squabbles. There's a reason YD and I planned on only having one child.
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Date: December 13th, 2005 01:09 pm (UTC)" . . . I HAV EBER SEAN!!!” Love the spelling : Freudian slip??? :D
Post again soon . . . pleeeeze.
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Date: December 13th, 2005 05:14 pm (UTC)Isn't posting once a day for 19 days straight enough for you???? Okay, just for you, I'll post again this evening... ;^D
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Date: December 14th, 2005 01:32 am (UTC)i love the relationship the prance and Lil' Pip have =) its so adorable. and i love how the end of every discussion is "MOMMA!" lol
i love love love these!
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Date: December 14th, 2005 02:34 am (UTC)Though it did NOTHING to improve my own odds....
:^D
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Date: December 14th, 2005 05:22 am (UTC)I've seen the Wendy's you stopped at! And the warg feet! :-D
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Date: December 18th, 2005 03:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: November 20th, 2006 11:48 pm (UTC)And the two 'kids' together are hysterical. I do think Li' Pip could take him in a fair fight! ;-)
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Date: November 21st, 2006 06:07 am (UTC)I told LP what you said about a fair fight, and she said, with a big grin, "If it was some kind of brain challenge, he wouldn't stand a chance!"
She's probably right, too!