[LOBO]“Dad,” whines Screechy. “They wont let me watch Dora!”
On the one hand, the teenagers are quietly watching television.
-But on the other, being unemployed and bored has made me an increasingly dark and deeply-conflicted individual: the five-year old and both teenagers are available for my potential amusement.
“What!?” I’ll say, feigning shock. “Well, you tell them I said ‘hoop-boobli-flip flang!’”
-And dutifully, Screechy runs down the stairs, back into the living room, and announces with distant-yet-undeniable authority, “Dad said … !”
I have to hide my laughter as the rapid footsteps return.
“They didn’t listen!” he complains. “They just, well, stared at me!”
I scowl menacingly. “Oh really? Well you tell them I said, “Quit spoinking and flizz-flazzle!” But just as he begins to run back, I grab his shoulder and look him in the eye real serious-like. “Don’t forget to tell them ‘pttttthbt’ first.” Holding my thumb to my nose, I wiggle my fingers and wince crossed eyes for effect. “Remember. Pttthbt! -or it won’t work!”
He practices the hand motion. "Spoinking the flizz-flazzle!"
“Perfect,” I smile parentally.
-This is followed by running footsteps down the stairs, muffled cursing teenagers (possibly throwing objects), and then running footsteps up the stairs.
"It's not working," he points out, breathing heavily. "You have to put on Dora.""Did you remember the 'pttthbt' thing?"
"Yes."
"-And the fingers?"
He demonstrates. "Uh huh!"
"You did it wrong. You have to use your other hand ..."
