Dear Kid,

After a extending his stay about 24 hours, the bat has checked out of Casa Mia.

It was a bit on the crazy side.

After a few more rounds of “fling open the front door and see if the bat will randomly fly out of the house” served with a side of Curious Puppy, the bat retreated to the second floor. Dad seemed to think this was a good idea. The Puppy and I weren’t convinced.

Then nothing proceeded to happen.

Then everything happened.

The bat reappeared. In our bedroom. This is not exactly where one wants to see a bat (just in case you weren’t sure).

Dad leapt in to action. I am not exaggerating. Leapt. After a Grand Jete across the room, he opened the window, which made a great deal of sense—except for the screen on the window. The bat dived toward the bed. Dad unhooked the screen. The bat zoomed across the room. Dad almost dropped the screen down two flights onto the bushes. The bat ignored the now open window and instead dropped about 1,000 feet directly toward Dad.

Dad ducked.

The bat saw this as an invitation to dance. It was an invitation the bat did not refuse.

Thus began the Pas de Deux of bat and man.

The bat made elegant use of his wings, swooping and diving, appearing and disappearing with grace and beauty.

Dad made inelegant use of the screen, lunging and flailing around in an attempt to guide the bat to the window.

The bat did not perceive the screen as an Agent of Good. And showed this by resolutely avoid all of Dad’s efforts to herd him.

“He’s getting tired!” When Dad said that, I was pretty sure he was projecting his own condition. When he repeated it, I was sure.

Eventually, the bat settled on the screen (the third time) and Dad guided it out the window.

I have not yet found evidence of bat guano.

Which I’m hoping is a good thing.

(Except that the bat was here a pretty long time…)

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

There is a bat in the house. More specifically, there is a bat in our house.

Even more specifically, there is a bat somewhere in our house, but we don’t know where.

He or she has been flying around and then disappearing as soon as we manage to fling the door open. Dad’s doing his imitation of a tarmac worker at the airport (you know, the guys with the lighted flashlight things who guide the planes to the gate).

The bat does not understand the signals.

We don’t know how the bat got into the house or exactly how long he or she has been here.

We checked, and the bat did not make an advanced reservation. I typically do not keep a stock of insects in the house, so a breakfast buffet for the bat is out of the question. I’m pretty sure that will not make the bat happy.

Says Dad, “Who needs a bat house outside when we have a bat in the house?” I’m pretty sure that didn’t make the bat any happier.

I think I shall name the bat Vlad. Or Trixy. It would help if I knew how the bat identified.

The big problem with the bat is that every time we see the Black Shadow of Silence , we jump up and open the front door. This is the universal signal to the Puppy to go On Alert and see who is invading. The compound tragedy is that A) he’s exhausted and would really rather be sleeping than popping up every fifteen minutes and B) there is nothing for him to do when faced with an empty threshold. It’s tough being him.

Stay tuned for batty updates.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Happy April! I hope you survived April 1^st without too many Fools or too much snow. (What is it with Mother Nature this year? Spring should not include snow imho.)

April 2^nd is National Reconciliation Day.

Puppy: What does National Reconciliation Day mean?
Me: Do you know what National means?
Puppy: I’m a puppy, not a linguist.
Me: Fair enough. It means the whole country gets to celebrate.
Puppy: Everyone?
Me: If they choose to.
Puppy: Celebrate means treats, right?
Me: I guess it might.
Puppy: What about the rest?
Me: Reconciliation means to patch up a friendship or relationship.
Puppy: Patch up?
Me: Fix.
Puppy: Huh? I don’t understand. Why would you need to fix a friendship?
Me: Sometimes people say or do something that is hurtful to someone they care about.
Puppy: WHAT? You mean they bite?
Me: No, but sometimes words can hurt.
Puppy: Like when you tell me not to do something?
Me: Sort of like that.
Puppy: But then you tell me you love me.
Me: I do love you.
Puppy: I think I know what the problem is.
Me: You do?
Puppy: Some people don’t sniff other people enough. Then they get confused.
Me: You might be right.
Puppy: When do we celebrate with the treats?

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid,

Did you hear about this thing called March Madness which celebrates basketball and takes over the airwaves as only things like the Olympics (and March Madness) can?

Just in case you haven’t been paying attention, I—the local expert on basketball and all things madness—am here to help.

First you have to know about brackets. Brackets are a game designed to separate you from your money and make even the ardent statisticians lose their collective minds. You don’t have to know too much about brackets because yours was busted a long time ago (as was everyone else’s).

Once you’ve figured out that—like the points on Who’s Line Is It Anyway?—brackets don’t matter, you can move on to the important parts of the game—the commercials. Just kidding. Commercials in bball are the standard, boring commercials we always get. Feel free to hit the restroom or get dinner during the commercials. You won’t miss anything.

The next thing you need to know is that if you want to win during March Madness you need a nun on your side. If you don’t have a nun, you’d better play really, really well.

Finally, there are the rules. The rules exist so that the commentators have something to talk about if play slows down. Here are some of the weirder ones.

Players only have 10 seconds (from the time they get the ball) to take a free throw. Delays (and by “delay” I mean taking longer than 10 seconds) means a penalty—which in this case means forfeiting the right to take the shot.

If a player breaks the backboard or bends the rim of the basket during play, the player is charged with a technical foul. The only exception to this is if they cause the damage during warm-ups (even half time warm-ups) in which case only the maintenance crew have to worry about it.

And my fave weird rule: it is possible for a player to foul out and remain in a game. (It’s pretty certain that if this happens the coach is busy having a cardiac event and the commentators are having a field day.) If a player gets his 6^th personal foul and all the substitutes have already been disqualified, the player has to stay in the game because the rules say that the team must always have five players on the court. The player will get a personal and team foul. Unlikely to happen, but true.

Happy Madness.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Enough already.

Although perhaps I should say ‘nuf—that might be more ‘propriate.

I’ve decided (I really don’t know why more people don’t consult me about these things) that there ought to be a standard college graduation test.

You heard me. In order to get The Degree, I think people should have to take a short, but important test.

I envision about 50 questions (some will require written answers; some will require demos). Here’s a sample.

1. Explain the difference between the words “then” and “than.”
2. Describe why the words “its” and “it’s” are different.
3. Is this sentence correct, “Me and Jane talked about it and we’re going to the mall.”?
4. If not, fix it. [If you fix it by writing “Me and Jane talked about it and we’re going to the movies.” you will fail immediately.]
5. What about this one: “Make sure to do you laundry before dinner.”
6. Explain the difference between “itch” and “scratch.” Use each in a sentence.
7. Demonstrate that you can sew a button.
8. Demonstrate that you can prepare at least one reasonable meal from scratch.
9. Swear that you will never describe a point as “mute” unless you cut out its tongue. And possibly your own.

You get the point (moot or otherwise). There ought to be a reasonable level of education required before people are allowed out in the world.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The point of the Global Pet Expo was not just to walk new blisters onto my feet (yes, I was wearing sneakers, but still…) and not just to gawk at the concept of dog bikinis (although that was fun, too).

Global was all about finding products to carry in one’s business.

The really cool ones I can’t tell you about and the boring ones are…boring. So I won’t bother telling you about them (you’re welcome).

There were a couple of things that surprised me.

In the aquarium/fish/aqua section there were jellyfish displays with weird lights. You know how I feel about jellyfish, but as art it was pretty cool.

There were also rescue puppies for adoption in a couple of booths (can I get a “way to go” and a couple of “awwwws”?).

Yes, I stopped to hold some of the puppies. No, I did not bring one home.

There were some really good seminars and some fun products.

And the trip home was highly uneventful (yay!), until the Puppy started sniffing around my suitcase (yes, I brought treats for him).

Love, Mom