Where's the Thing-a-Ma-Jig?

By Renee Hawkley

(This article is taken from Renee’s book, Don’t Come In Here! Mom’s Throwing Spaghetti!)

I have a lot of important things to think about. Sometimes, I think of so many important things at once that I can’t coordinate my brain with my mouth.

Just yesterday, I asked one of our sons to bring me the thing-a-ma-jig from the bedroom.

"What thing-a-ma-jig?"

"You know what I mean. It’s right next to the do-whappee."

"Which bedroom is the do-whappee in?" he asked.

"I mean the bathroom. It’s on the diller in the bathroom."

"What does it look like?"

"Don’t get smart with me. It looks like itself. Come to think of it, it looks a lot like a wha-cha-ma-call-it."

"What does a wha-cha-ma-call-it look like?"

"Now listen here, Anthony. I don’t like your tone of voice. It looks like a regular kind of wha-cha-ma-call-it, of course."

"My name isn’t Anthony."

"What do you mean your name isn’t Anthony?"

"My name is Ethan."

"Oh . . . well . . . I guess you’re right. Listen. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Don’t listen to what I SAY. Listen to what I MEAN."

"Mom, why don’t you ask somebody else to get the thing-a-ma-jig for you. I’ll call Kyle to do it."

"No. Kyle is over at you-know-who’s. Go upstairs and get who-jer."

"Who-jer? Mom, which who-jer do you mean?"

"I don’t care. Just send somebody."

Now, I ask you. Have you ever sent YOUR son for who-jer and actually had who-jer show up? Me, neither.

So, I had to go get the thing-a-ma-jig myself.

I just don’t know about these kids of mine. Where do they get their brains?