conversations with hank


Hank: Excuse me. (gets up from the dinner table, goes into the hallway and rips the loudest fart I have ever heard)

Me: (hysterically laughing)

Pai: (shocked, cackling)

Molly: (utterly confused, nawshing on bread)

Hank: (returning, blushing) Perdão (I beg your pardon).

Me: (trying to regain my composure)

Pai: You did the right thing, leaving the table, thank you. (wiping tears from his eyes)

Me: Yes, you did. I just didn’t know you were going into the hall to fire off your butt-cannon.

Hank: (positively purple with laughter)

Pai: (riots of laughter)

Molly: (growling at her bread)

Me: I was thinking… where is he going and then all of a sudden you butt announced, “Assemble the troops. On my count… FIRE!”

Hank: (doubled over laughing)

Me: Normally, I do not find butt-cannon farts funny. I more enjoy the butt-trumpet variety of farts. Now those are funny, but you have made me a believer in the butt-cannon. Thank you, Hank. And Molly?

Molly: (looking over at me, missing her mouth and shoving soggy bread into her cheek) Take a page from your brother’s playbook.

Pai: (still laughing) Butt-Cannon (shaking his head).

Hank: (holding his side, trying to catch his breath)


Kissing (barfing sound)

conversations with hank


Hank: I was watching Gumball and this sunflower was talking to a peanut.

Me: You can stop there.  That is already funny.

Hank: Yes! And then the sunflower said, “There was this boy and this girl and he was like (kissing sound) and she was like (kissing sound) and I was like (barfing sound).” (laughing) So funny.

Pai: (chuckling)

Molly: (growling at her toys)

Me: If you think about it kissing is super gross. You smash your face together with another person’s face mixing saliva and if you don’t know what you’re doing you bump into each other’s teeth, but if you do know what you are doing you bump your tongues together.

Hank: If kissing is so gross then why do you do it?

Pai: (smirking) Yes Joy, why do you do it? (eyebrow raised)

Molly: (systematically dropping her toys onto the floor)

Me: (thinking) Because kissing is a metaphor for life: Messy, but fantastic.

Hank: (barfing sounds)


Books verses Stories

conversations with hank


Hank: Whattcha writing, mama?

Me: I am working on my ladybug story.

Hank: Can I hear it?

Me: It’s not done. I only have the beginning.

Hank: That’s ok. (putting down Xbox controller)

Me: Alright, but I want an honest opinion at the end.

Hank: Sure. (sitting on the edge of the couch)

Me: Lavender the ladybug was house hunting.
She had been for days,
That was until right this very instant.
She had a promising lead.

The Neighborhood was good.
Right across the road from a large field
Flooded with wild lupine, clover
And most probably poppy in the summer months.
Neighbored by tended allotments
And crumbling cottages long left to the elements.

Yes, Lavender had just about made up her mind about this place
Save one thing,
The house wasn’t a cracked, neglected flower pot or an old tree trunk,
It wasn’t a mound of tufted grass or a rick of rattan
It was a stone wall
And no ladybug of her acquaintance had ever lived in a wall.

Hank: (pause)

Me: (looking up)

Hank: You’ve told me about this ladybug before on the way to our garden.

Me: I have.

Hank: I didn’t know her name was Lavender.

Me: Neither did I. That came out in the writing.

Hank: I like how when you tell me a story it is much different when you write it. It sounds like… (thinking) It sounds like a book when you write it and a story when you tell it.

Me: (smiling, soaking it all in)

Hank: Keep working, my mama. (retrieving the Xbox controller)

Me: (typing away)