WARNING: Prone to Theatrical Displays of Melodrama
“Mummy, do you know where the plastic container with the clicking lid is?”
“No. I do not. I’m not sure where it went. Maybe Daddy took it to school.”
Rissa sighs deeply. I barely hear her say, “I call her ‘Clicky’.”
“Pardon me?”
Rissa now speaks loudly and clearly. “I call her ‘Clicky’.”
“Did you just say that you call the container ‘Clicky’?
“I call HER ‘Clicky’!”
“Sorry. This container is a girl?”
“Yes, she is a girl. Don’t judge my love!”
“I’m not judging…”
“You don’t know what we have together…” I think at this point, Rissa flings an arm up to demonstrate her heightened emotional state.
“You are completely right. I DO NOT know, nor do I understand, the relationship that you have with the, uh… plastic container you have dubbed ‘Clicky’. Not that there is anything wrong with that.”
Still doing her best Garbo, Rissa exclaims, “Why can’t you support my choices?”
Then she dissolves into snorting laughter. In betweeen snorts, “Today will be a laughing day, I can just tell!”
“Awesome.”
“Every time I laugh today, I will do a different laugh.”
“You do that little thing.”
“I will!” She then lets out a burst of mad scientist mania.
“MOO-HOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!!”
“You are SO weird.”
“Unique. I am unique.”
“You’re something alright.”