Yesterday I talked to a head start program based in Utah that is going to send someone over next week to give Leta a full physical and mental assessment. I was on the phone with the secretary for what seemed like hours giving her all of the relevant information:
Your child’s ethnicity? As white as they come.
Any other children in the home? HELL NO.
Any problems during labor and delivery? They didn’t start out by giving me the epidural, nor was I allowed to take the epidural home with me.
Does she ever get a chance to play with other kids? Yes, during the two hours a day I let her out of the kennel.
And so on. And then she asked me what I was concerned about and I went, “Blah blah, NOT WALKING, blah blah, yada yada, I think I may have given birth to a serpent.”
Then she asked me to list off Leta’s qualities, and without thinking I started selling my kid like I was trying to pawn off a used car. I couldn’t talk her up enough. She’s got a great sense of humor and can repeat almost any noise she hears, including the sound of her father’s farts, no kidding. She can keep rhythm to the Journey to Ernie song, and books! She loves to read books backwards. Plus, she’s got a new windshield and I just replaced her timing belts.
The secretary had to stop me because I couldn’t stop myself. I was saying things like, “No, really. REALLY. He walked into her room while she was reading books backwards and he farted, and she looked up at him and went, ‘FFFFFFPPPPPHHHHHHTTT,’ with her mouth. And it sounded exactly like his fart. Tell me we don’t have a winner on our hands. TELL ME.”
She had to interrupt me and say, “I’m sure your daughter is lovely.”
And I was all, “Lovely? Did you hear what I just told you? THIS KID IS A FUCKING GENIUS.”