Oh, come on. You know I couldn’t leave it alone, right?
Momsie is upstairs, when she hears him. Her beloved (also known as Tall Blonde Husband) is approaching.
Her palms are sweaty.
She is, of course, in the bedroom.
It is, also, possible that her palms are not sweaty, but that she just helped Red with a bathroom explosion, and she is still a bit damp from all the soap.
But, shhhhhhhh…. (places finger on lips of reader) let’s not talk.
We are here because …. Why are we here?
Oh, yep, right. Seduction.
True, it’s 5:30 in the afternoon, and she just might have a to-do list that involves things like: chop onions for burritos, make sure Blonde helps Red clean marker off the cat, and maybe try to remember to put mascara on other eye because she only did one, for some weird reason, and it makes her look a bit… unbalanced, whenever she catches a glance of herself in the mirror…
But maybe, you know, she could use that to her advantage. Unbalanced is good. It looks like she’s winking. Surely, winking is seductive?
She tries it in the mirror.
No. No, not really. It really just looks like she has a facial tic. Or that she’s some grandpa at the store who is offering her kids a Tootsie Roll, all har-dee-har-har, little creepy, jovial-ish.
Ok. So, it is noted that winking is not sexy.
Where were we?
Shhhhhhhh. (finger on lips again, which, also, might be a bit annoying to the reader. Who really likes that? Have you washed your hands recently? Do you KNOW how many germs have been walking around our house? So, duly noted. Finger on lips thingy- STOP IT.)
She calls, seductively, “Honey, come in here a moment. I’m in… (wait for it) the bedroom.”
Tall Blonde: “What?”
She clears her throat, and goes for seduction, only a little louder: “I’m in here, darling. The bedroom. You know. Where all the magic happens?”
Both Red and Blonde magically appear, because, you know, Momsie SAID THE WORD “MAGIC.” BIG MISTAKE.
Red and Blonde: “Wer? Wer da magic? Der’s magic in HERE? Where, Mommah? Mom? Mother? Mommyyyyyyy?”
Momsie: “HEY, YOU. GET IN HERE. AND GET THE KIDS OUT, OK?”
Husband shows up. Finally. Small children are ushered out. Finally. She leans against the dresser. This is not a seductive move. It is because she is tired, ya’ll.
“Here, honey. I have something to show you.”
Tall Husband is wearing Superman boxer shorts, a flannel jacket of the homeless man variety (he calls it his smoking jacket, but who is he kidding? I didn’t marry Hugh Hefner, and I think we can all thank God for that), and the coup de resistance: Black socks. Pulled UP. It sorta reminds me of this:
Also, Momsie is wearing YOGA PANTS because did you KNOW? They’re unbelievably SEXY!!! Any man who looks upon them will just burst into flames of longing, I tell you.
Husband does not burst into flames of longing. Perhaps the socks are flame retardant.
“Here sweetie,” she pulls open a drawer…
“I rearranged your T-shirt drawer. Now all your K-State t shirts are on the TOP.” (This is not, as some would imagine, code for something. The t shirts are just, really, on the top.)
Husband smiles and starts to put his finger on her lips, overwhelmed by both the yoga pants and her organizational skills. She heads out of the room, because someone just tried to use Windex on the cat.
The yoga pants will have to wait.
But wait! There’s more!
Later… (For some reason, seduction uses a lot of ellipses. Who knew? This is, of course, breaking my writing rule about only ONE use of ellipses per paper, but I doubt any of my old students are reading this, the poor dears. Also, who are we kidding? I’m not going for a Pulitzer here.)
She is slowly stirring frosting. Peanut butter frosting. The yoga pants are still on, but are now paired with a sweatshirt the size of Milwaukee that seems to be covered in… you guessed it, peanut butter frosting.
Husband approaches and swipes a taste. Evidently, the frosting is really good because he starts groaning and then, the yoga pants embolden him to utter,
“This frosting is yummy, honey. Makes me want to smear it all over you and just gnaw it off.”
(I know. He doesn’t really get points in the imagination department, and also we must take small deduction for use of the word, “gnaw,” but well, he’s trying.)
Momsie stops stirring long enough to hitch up yoga pants. Who knew yoga pants could actually sag? It’s possible that’s because she has worn them for two days in a row now.
She leans back against the husband and smiles. The moment is hers.
“Well, yes dear. We could do that. But, I was just thinking, why not just use a graham cracker?”
Now, if that’s not good literature, I don’t know what is.