Hanging boobs

Giant boob hanging overhead

Coco emailed me an Excel question.  I returned the spreadsheet, formula intact.  “Some things never change,” the response said.  “Thanks for doing my homework for me.”  There was a P.S.  “Can you stop on your way to the river and have Brandon changeout a ceiling fan.”  I’d said we could.  “Perfect” she’d replied back.  “I would be sad if I thought I had to live with a giant boob hanging over my bed.  Two in the bedroom is quite enough for me.”

On the way to the Kern River, the car held opinions from six decades.  There was grandma and grandpa, who if not outvoted would have selected a family vacation in both a moderate temperature and temperament zone, Hot Wheelz, the grown child voted most daring in his high school annual, geared up for a week of water risk taking sports, and the younger generation, an eight-year-old Bug and five-year-old Worm.

We made a pit stop about an hour from home at Coco’s new apartment and Hot Wheelz quickly went to work installing a new ceiling fan.  It was the Bug’s and the Worm’s first visit to Coco’s new residence. 

“Use the bathroom before we leave,” I’d instructed, as any good grandma with past experience knows.

The Worm took her time coming out.  I couldn’t wait.  She was still washing her hands.  I reached in back of me for toilet paper and come up empty handed.  The Worm looked at me and pointed to my right.  Coco’s bathroom was tight.  My right hand reached over the bathtub.  It reminded me of my first little house after I’d married.  The living room was so cozy half the couch served as chairs for a small dining room table.

I’d never seen a TP holder tiled in over a tub like a soap dish.  I stretched and pulled off a couple of squares.  “This is odd,” I commented. 

“It’s okay, Grandma,” said the Worm.  “Aunt Coco has really long arms.”

I stood to pull up my pants and pulled my shirt up slightly.  “Grandma,” she observed and said, “you’ve got a big belly and boobs.”  She was fifty percent correct.  I hadn’t heard the big boob comment before, but you have to understand it was coming from a thin five-year-old.

“Grandma couldn’t find Aunt Coco’s toilet paper,” she informed Hot Wheelz, “I had to show her where it was.  It’s really far away, but it’s okay she has really long arms.”

She glanced at me.  “I didn’t tell him the other part.” 

“What other part?” I asked after Hot Wheelz left the room.

“The part about your belly and boobs.”  Some things are better left unsaid.

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