So, Z is back on the Blackhorse. She had given it up for a while. We had persuaded her that it wasn’t good for her. Besides, it was destroying her teeth. She stopped for three months, just long enough to get the promised fish tank. Well, now the fish is dead, and she is back to sucking her thumb.
My beloved husband had the best of intentions I’m sure when he told her that he was going to get her a cigar to chew on instead so she could look tough like “Hannibal from the A-team.”
I thought she understood that her father was joking until I picked her up from Granny Z’s the other day and she said, “Momma, when am I getting my cigar?”
She has no clue what a cigar actually is, so I explain to her that it is basically a big cigarette that old men like to chew on whilst playing cards and wearing leisure wear. She only has a vague appreciation for what a cigarette is, so this was less than helpful. She immediately bursts into tears because she has already told all her friends at school (and the teacher I presume) that she is getting a real cigar. I am expecting phone calls on that one by the way.
So I called her father and explained that he has to fix this, so he was able to placate her for now, but I’m not sure she looks tough like Hannibal.