I seem to have monkey issues. Or issues involving monkeys. Something like that.
See, I like monkeys. A lot. When Diva went to one of those, ‘make your own stuffed animal’ places years ago, she brought home a poster. With a monkey in it. So, me being the proper, refined, and delicate woman I am, ran around the house yelling, “I WANT A MONKEY! I WANT A MONKEY! MONKEY, MONKEY, MOOOOOOONNNNKKEEEEEYYYY!”
I may or may not have repeated that performance over the years, especially around my birthday and Christmas, when asked, “What do you want?” “I WANT A MONKEY!”
A few months ago, I finally got myself a monkey. A Sock Monkey. Her name is Munkey, because I’m creative like that. I danced around the house, waving her over my head and yelling, “I GOT A MONKEY! MONKEY, MONKEY, MONKEY!” She lives on my desk, in front of the computer monitor.
It has been suggested that I have some issues, but I know they’re all just jealous of my monkey love.
That sounds wrong. Really wrong.
And therein lies the problem.
No matter what you do, talking about your monkey will have folks reacting strangely.
Take last night.
Wolf was teasing me, as he often does. I read him, at his request, You Want To What?! When I was done, he looked at me and asked, “It’s about camping, right?” then started running out of the room, snickering to himself. Needing revenge, but not wanting to cause actual damage or leave marks, I grabbed Munkey and started whacking him with it.
And then I realized…I was whacking my husband with my monkey. Spanking him with my monkey.
There’s no good way to say that.
It’s not the first time a monkey has got me into trouble.
Back when Tazzie was about four, he had a monkey, named ‘Huggy Face’. I was on the phone with the vice principal of the homeschooling board Diva was being registered with, sorting out some details. Diva, being the older sister and never one to pass up a chance to bug Tazzie, was teasing him with Huggy Face, making him howl in outrage.
Mid conversation, I found myself interrupting the vice principal to snap, “Diva! Quit spanking your brother’s monkey!”
As the words left my mouth, I face palmed. That did not sound good.
Dead silence from the vice principal.
I hastily explained what had happened. Thankfully, he had children of his own, and other than some hysterical laughter, all was well.
Yup. Monkey issues. I haz ’em.