Moonie: “Why did the turkey get in trouble?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “He used FOWL language!”
Moonie: “Why was the Thanksgiving soup so expensive?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “It had 24 carrots!”
Moonie: “Why did the turkey join the band?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “‘Cause he had drumsticks!”
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“OHMYGOODNESSOHMYGOODNESSOHMYGOODNESSOHMYGOODNESS!”
Moonie was running in circles, exuberant arms flung in the air, shouting this over and over.
“What’s up, Moonie?” I asked as the kitty yawned and went back to sleep.
“CARDBOARDOXCARDBOARDOXCARDBOARDOX!”
Here, I’ll translate: it was the last Saturday in October, and the incredibly talented duo of Tracie Potochnik and Steve Allain that makes up Cardboard Ox was holding its CD release show that night. And if you recall, all the way back in April – the very first day that Moonie came into my life – we’d attended a Cardboard Ox show in Dedham, MA for his very first outing.
The duo has held a special little place in Moonie’s heart ever since. We weren’t going to miss the release of their six-song EP for the world.
The release was being hosted by Ross Lenzing of Lion Recording Studio; Ross had recorded, mixed, and mastered the EP. Other audience members included guest musician Amato Zinno, who’d contributed on upright bass. Moonie loves meeting new people, but after saying hello to a bunch of folks he immediately zeroed in on one of the cardboard oxes that decorated the walls in honor of the Cardboard Ox album release.
Oh boy! It’s Halloween!
That’s Moonie’s FAVORITE holiday!
Just like Christmas is and Easter is and Labor Day is and….
Well, anyway, he’s been pretty excited about telling the kitty this joke.
Moonie: “Why didn’t the skeleton go to the dance?”
Kitty: (yawn)
Moonie: “Because he had no BODY to go with!” (rolling and kicking his little legs in laughter)
Kitty: zzzz
He’s also been excited about dressing up, and he kept disappearing into his little Moonie workshop, where he whistled as he worked with what sounded suspiciously like hammers and saws.
He first appeared as Sherlock Holmes.
But when I couldn’t take him shouting, “ELEMENTARY, DEAR WATSON!” every three minutes, I asked if he had another costume in mind. He brightened up and disappeared again.
I needed to pee and realized something. “Moonie, did you take all the toilet paper?”
He appeared smiling.
“What do parents dress up as for Halloween?” he asked.
“Really, Moonie? You needed three whole rolls of toilet paper for that?”
“MUMMIES!” he shouted, hooting in laughter.
I asked him to change out of his outfit, but he walked back in while he was about halfway there, now looking like this.
“What did Caesar say to Cleopatra?” he asked.
“What, Moonie,” I sighed.
“Toga-ether we can rule the world!” he shouted.
“Toilet paper,” I reminded him, tapping my foot.
Finally, he emerged from his workshop with a suitable outfit.
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Moonie’s musician pals Marc Douglas Berardo and John Juxo were playing a show in Maine, and Moonie insisted we drive up. So we did. Even if I had to look at his excited little bum on the dashboard the whole way.
We did stop at a rest area so Moonie could tell bear jokes to his pal Smokey Bear.
(Moonie: “What do you call bears without ears?”
Smokey: “What?”
Moonie: “Bs!”
Smokey: “Ah.”
Moonie: “Why don’t bears like fast food?”
Smokey: “Why?”
Moonie: “Because they can’t catch it!”
Moonie: “Why did Smokey get fired from his fire ranger job?”
Smokey: “Er, why?”
Moonie: “Cause he only did the BEAR minimum!”
Smokey: “Uh, kid, can you move along? I have some, uh, important fire prevention to do here.”)
But we did make it to the Waterfall Arts Center, which turned out to be totally awesome.
There must be a Cake-aholics Anonymous meeting around here somewhere. My little dude has gone off the deep end. I don’t even know where he gets them anymore, or how he pays for them, or how he gets people to write his name in pink icing. When I ask, I just get a mysterious little smile in return.
I also don’t know why he bothers with the fork, given that my nude little dude is prone to just diving face-first into each piece.
But it does give him an opportunity to share his favorite cake jokes with all his blog and Facebook friends.
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Moonie loves two big things about Project Undercover: their cute teddy bear logo and the fact that they collect unopened diapers, underwear and socks for 45,000 Rhode Island kids every year. It’s easy to remember to donate clothes and household goods, but sometimes we forget the stuff under the covers, so to speak.
But Project Undercover is reminding us through their various collections and awareness campaigns and, last Thursday, through a “Taste of Summer” fundraiser that drew hundreds of people to its cause. Moonie, of course, was high on the event’s guest list.
(Actually, I think his little bear buddy snuck him in.)
He had a blast sampling food from great local vendors La Creperie, The Duck & Bunny, Capital Grille, Sicilia’s Pizzaria, The Backyard Food Company, and Wes’ Rib House, happily washing down his yums with “Captain America” beer tastings from Trinity Brewhouse.
When he wasn’t wolfing down everything in sight, Moonie was grooving happily to live jazz by Doug Woolverton and Travis Colby.
Moonie has a new best friend: the monkey happily hanging by ribbons in the window of a local toy store. They giggle and chat through the glass with identical permanent smiles.
(“What’s your monkey friend’s name?” I asked Moonie.
“Mr. Monkey!” he exclaimed.
“Mr. Monkey is my father!” said his little friend. “Call me Monkey.”
“OK, Monkey!” said Moonie.
So there we have it.)
It turns out Monkey likes telling jokes as much as Moonie.
Monkey: “What do you call a monkey that sells potato chips?”
Moonie: “What?”
Monkey: “A chipmunk!”
Moonie: (hysterical laughter)
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Last week, Moonie got to try a new mode of transportation: airplane! He was so excited.
He ran around T.F. Green airport, greeting all the people and admiring the funky artwork, like this overhead scuplture.
Then he ran around to all the windows in the airport asking, “Is that our plane? Is that one our plane?”
Even when there was no plane in sight.
He was even thrilled to pose for photos with trucks ’cause they’re “shiny like planes.”
One Sunday, I got the urge to make waffles. This made Moonie very, very happy. Ever since, he has woken me up on Sundays by doing little troll flips and cartwheels around my bed while shouting, “Waffles, waffles, waffles!”
When that doesn’t work, he’ll totter over carrying the bigger-than-him jug of syrup, grinning.
And when that doesn’t work, he’ll pull out his favorite waffle joke: “What do you call a waffle walking down the beach?”
“Sandy eggo!”
(Me: “Moonie, you’re supposed to say ‘San Diego’ and the joke is that it SOUNDS like ‘sandy eggo.'”
Moonie: “But if they sound the same, why can’t I say ‘sandy eggo’?”
Me: “You’re right. Sandy eggo it is.”)
The flips and jokes still don’t mean Moonie is guaranteed to get waffles. But today he did, and he’s been walking around with a big grin on his face and syrup on his chin for hours.
Moonie and I went for a haircut last week. Which meant I got the shampoo and trim and blow-dry while Moonie admired his rock-star locks in multiple mirrors under shiny lights. It was also a chance for him to hit on the “sexy brush,” as he calls her, and tell her some of his favorite haircut-themed jokes.
Moonie: “What did the bald man say when given a comb?”
Sexy brush: (silence)
Moonie: “I’ll never part with it!”
Sexy brush: (silence)
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