Number 3 is the Duke of Non Sequiturs. But after a little bit of digging, I usually manage to connect all the dots…
Let me backtrack a minute —
My grandmother and my aunt are pretty old.
A year-and-a-half ago, after getting home from the big family reunion we have here every summer, my uncle, who was 92, had a stroke. My aunt drove with him in the ambulance to the hospital.
She had a stroke in the ambulance.
Talk about being in the right place at the right time…
Unfortunately, my uncle never really recovered. He passed away a couple months later.
When I say I throw a killer party, I’m not kidding…
So we’ve had some serious issues in the really-old-relatives department, and at this point, the kids are basically just expecting to be told that Great Gma and Aunt J have kicked the bucket.
A few days ago, my grandmother fell late at night, hurt her arm pretty badly, and had to be taken to the emergency room.
I was telling my husband about it, and Number 3, DONS, was in the room.
And this was his rapid fire line of questioning.
“Is Great Gma dead?”
“No, she’s fine,” I answered.
“Can she cry?”
I haven’t quite made the connection on that one yet… “Yes, you can still cry when you’re old,” I told him.
“Does she have a cow heart?”
What? Where the hell did that come from?
And that’s when I found out about Mr. I, the worst substitute ever, and wrote this.
Maybe I should have been a detective…
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