I hope this doesn’t sound too wrong, but Santa doesn’t come all at once. At least not at our house. On Christmas Eve, Isabel got a cage and a promise. We went and picked up the rabbit a couple of hours ago.
She said we’d name it George if it was a boy, and Fifi if it was a girl. I should have asked the girl at the pet shop. I mean, I should have asked her before she put George/Fifi into a dark little box for us to carry home.He/She seemed very calm inside the box but had struggled mightily against going in. After he/she was in the box, I asked “So, is it George or is it Fifi?” I wasn’t sure if she understood me, so I asked if it was a boy or a girl. Some people just do not get jokes. Even little ones.
She said she didn’t know and indicated no special desire to find out so I let the subject drop. I figured it would be easy enough to check when we got home.
Hah. While the kids were bringing in the cage and preparing it, I tried to pick him/her up so I could take a look, and she started scratching me like crazy. “She’s female,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” asked my wife and daughter. My daughter because she thought I was on to something, my wife just as an indicator that my lame, sexist humor was not appreciated.
Actually, Isabel did much better than me at establishing rapport, and when she picked the rabbit up to put him/her in the cage, he/she wasn’t bothered at all.
In other news, we just watched “The Interview.” Egad. It is embarrassingly bad. If you need to watch it to keep up with current events or something, O.K., but if you’re looking for a good laugh and a well made film, just watch Despicable Me II again.
I guarantee you, it will be time better spent.