This morning I was at Sister Wife’s (my BFF) house while she was cleaning out closets. She had a really cute area rug she thought I might want for the Big Guhl’s room since the one they have looks like crime scene evidence. As Wifey was trying to dig the rug out of her closet she grabbed the largest stuffed animal I have ever seen, in person, in my life, and said sarcastically, “Do you want THIS too?”
“Not really but I’ll take it to the Salvation Army for you while your kids are at school and can’t whine about…” then inspiration hit. I remembered Beyonce, The Big Metal Chicken, (Beware of Naughty language. I warned you.) and I thought to myself, “SELF, you can do better.”
“I’ll take it to the thrift store after I’m done with it.”
I stuck the The Beast in my car and went to meet a couple of friends for lunch.
An hour later I sat in the carpool line waiting to pick up my kids and completely forgot that I had a carnival critter in my backseat. I’m sure every teacher on car duty thinks I’m totally normal. Had I ANY forethought, I would have ditched that mug at my house before I picked my kids up because Emma didn’t miss a beat.
She got in the car and said immediately, “MOMMA! There’s a TIGER in our car!”
“NO THERE’S NOT!!” I was mortified. If she told my husband before I actually got to plant it somewhere I was going to be uber-ticked. But more problematic was the fact that I had volunteered to get Wifey’s daughter, E., from school.
E. who also happened to be The Beast’s rightful owner. Her grandfather won him for her at a carnival and while E. would not allow The Beast in her room, if she saw him in the back of my car, Wifey was going to be busted for trying to toss him while she was at school.
Sure enough as soon as the other kids got in the car Emma yelled, “There’s a tiger in the backseat!”
I explained to E. that I was only borrowing The Beast and would be returning him shortly. (Sorry Wifey, he’s coming home.) I dropped E. off at her house and headed to my husband’s office to take him some mail then I realized that he would see The Beast in the back of my car and I would get no funny. So I made a detour.
I MADE A DETOUR. I stopped what I was doing, made a U-turn and drove to my house, to put a life-sized albino tiger in my bed.
I was scared to death to tell my kids not to talk about the tiger because I realized that this was a surefire way to get them to tell their Daddy about it. So I said nothing, and prayed they would remain silent.
We got away without anyone spilling the beans and I spent the rest of the night laughing until I was crying thinking about Mike Tyson’s tiger in The Hangover and my husband walking into our bedroom.
I sent my sister a pic and told her what I had done and she asked, “What are y’all doing?”
Me: NOTHING. We are just sitting on the couch watching TV like there’s not a tiger in our bedroom.
Finally. FINALLY around 8:30 Hubs went into the bedroom to get something and I heard, “Whaaaaaaaaaat?”
He walked into the den to find me in the fetal position on the couch sobbing I was laughing so hard. (I’m pretty sure I’m not mentally stable.)
“You know there’s a tiger on our bed, right?”
Do. I. ever.
UPDATE: Zebulicious scared the MESS outta me when I went to bed last night. He went to sleep before I did so when I stumbled into our bedroom in the dark to get in the bed this is what I found: