Monday, August 15, 2011

Percy is a Zombie

    The Zombie Elf (my three-year-old) had a very traumatic day yesterday.  I'm embarrassed to say, it's all my fault.


    He's obsessed with Thomas and friends, dinosaurs and dragons.  He only has three trains, and cherishes each one.  He takes Thomas with him everywhere.  Rosie (the purple engine) stays in the van, and Percy (the green engine) stays at the station.  The Zombie Elf is hilarious and very particular about his trains.
    Now, the "station" is really The Zombie Elf's bed.  But he's rigged a cute area for Percy.  There's a tiny cotton ball pillow and a Kleenex blanket.  My boy sleeps by Percy every night.

    Anyway, yesterday I mowed the lawn.  Do you remember this post: I'm sick of looking incompetent!  Two months ago I couldn't mow the lawn without someone offering to mow it for me.  Apparently, it's against their beliefs for a woman to do yard work!  Well, I don't know what did it, but yesterday no one offered.  I felt powerful, strong, like She-Ra when she beats all evil.  People drove past and waved.  For once in my life--I looked capable.
    I called Cade and told him about it.  "No one bothered me today."
    He laughed.  "That's because you're getting closer to thirty.  When a woman hits thirty, people know not to mess with them anymore.  Women in their thirties know how to say 'no.'  They stand up for themselves.  They've probably had time to take karate."
    "Really?  Are there any other great ages for women?"
    "Well, when they're thirty they get gutsy, and when they're seventy . . . they get crude."
    I laughed so hard before telling him I had to go.

    So, I mowed the back lawn.  The Hippie and The Scribe watched the babies.  I smiled as I mowed because mowing and using the bathroom seem like my only breaks.  I've never loved using the bathroom quite so much!  
    Anyway, Everything seemed right with the world until I saw something brightly colored in front of the mower.  I stopped, telling myself to shut-off the engine, but it was too late.  The lawn mower sucked something up, snarled and sputtered.  A few chunks shot from under the machine and then it purred to life again after spitting.
    I ran to the chunks.  It was PERCY.  What was Percy doing outside?  My boy never brings him from the "station."  My heart sunk.  I knelt in the fresh, beautiful grass (thanks to my yard skills).
    Have you ever done something terrible, something so bad you want to hide it forever?  That's what happened to me.  I wanted to visit a priest and I'M NOT EVEN CATHOLIC!  I wanted to pray to Jesus, but didn't think He'd resurrect Percy.  Jesus could cure leprosy; I don't know how He'd feel about dismemberment.  
    I shoved the splintered pieces into my pocket, the messed-up face that looked ghoulish and the broken wheels with missing sections.  That's when I swore I'd never show The Zombie Elf.
    "I'll be out in a few minutes," I said, getting ready to take a shower.  I shoved my pants under the dirty clothes pile and decided Percy would be safe in those pockets.
    While I took a shower, all I thought about was Percy.  I couldn't imagine The Zombie Elf's face when he realized Percy was gone.  I couldn't bear it.  I thought about all that, when a blood-curdling scream rose from my room.
    I jumped from the shower, threw on my clothes, and opened the door.
    "We didn't know," The Scribe said.  "We wanted to surprise you and do the laundry, but when I checked all the pants' pockets . . ."
    I turned to The Zombie Elf.  Big tears filled his eyes.  He held Percy to his chest.  "He died, Mama," he said.  "Percy's dead.  
He . . . dead."
    "Oh, Baby.  I'm so sorry.  When, I mowed the lawn, I ran--" I almost told him about the lawn mowing accident, but then I became a good mother, and lied!  "I ran outside and found him hurt in the grass.  He died fast though.  I think he was sick anyway."
    "It's okay," The Scribe said.  "Maybe he'll come back from the dead.  Maybe he'll be a vampire, or a zombie."
    "A zombie?" my boy asked.
    While I combed my hair, The Scribe and The Hippie told him all sorts of gory details, how zombies are dead people who come back and have a disease.  How vampires are even worse since they suck your blood!
    "He's not coming back," I whispered and hugged my boy.  "Zombies and vampires are just pretend.  Sometimes people go to Heaven.  We won't get to see them for a long time.  That's where your brother, Zeke went.  That's where Percy went."
    "He won't be a zombie?" my boy asked,a bit worried.  "He's not coming back as a bad guy?"
    "No, he won't be a zombie."
    A silence followed before we took poor Percy and had a funeral.  We all said a few words.  The Zombie Elf dug a hole.  He put Percy on a Kleenex blanket, and set the cotton ball pillow to his side."
    "His station's in the ground," The Zombie Elf said.  "He sleeps here."
    I smiled.  "His station's in the sky.  Percy was a good sort. He never talked back.  He never had a bad word for anyone."  I motioned to my girls.  "Do you have anything you'd like to say?"
    "He was my favorite color," The Scribe said.
    "Maybe he can play with Zeke now," The Hippie added.
    I don't know why, but her words hit me.  I looked up at the beautiful clouds.  They reminded me of the cotton ball in Percy's grave, or the clouds the same day I blew Zeke's ashed from a cliff.
    There I stood, at a funeral for a toy, and I was crying.
    The Zombie Elf talked then.  "I love Percy," he said.  "He's my buddy.  He was . . ."  Then a flood of tears came.  His tiny hands shoved dirt on Percy.  When my boy finished, he stuck his dirty hands into his overall pockets, turned his back on that grave and trudged away.  My boy was so sad, my boy, the one who's healthy and I get to keep.
    I called Cade after that.  I told him all about Percy.  We even talked for a while about Zeke.
    Anyway, when Cade got home, he asked if I could keep The Zombie Elf downstairs for a few minutes.  We waited, wondering what Cade was up to.  Then we started playing, and I forgot about it until bedtime.
    "Time to go to sleep."
    The Zombie Elf walked into his room.  Cade stayed in the hall, nearly pulsing with anticipation.  It didn't take long until The Zombie Elf screamed louder than Medusa's prey.  Cade ran to our boy and hugged him.  "What's wrong?" Cade asked.
     "Zombie!  Zombie!"  We went into the bedroom and I saw Cade's surprise.  A new Percy rested near a cotton ball pillow and a Kleenex blanket.
     "We buried Percy today!" Our boy screamed.  "And now he's back in my bed!  Percy . . . he's a bad guy!"

    I searched "Percy Zombie," but only found a Thomas Zombie.  So hilarious!


  1. I laughed, I cried, I love to read your posts...............kt

  2. So did you ever find out how he got outside?
    Sweet babies, so hard when they lose favorite toys.

  3. Once again, we were both reading each other's blogs and commenting at the same time.
    You can use my email address:

    I've started a blog for Peanut, so we'll post it there! Can't wait!!!!!

  4. Ah poor baby! I would have done the same thing as Cade though. Did you finally convince him Percy was a new toy and not a zombie?

  5. I'mmmmm baaack!

    It just hit me..."Well, when they're thirty they get gutsy, and when they're seventy . . . they get crude."

    Hey, I'm 70! Tell Cade I will meet him at dawn for a duel. I get to choose the weapons and I choose spaghetti straws................Only problem is he has to meet me on neutral ground (he'd have too many supporters on your block). How about Italy (they have great spaghetti straws there). He has to pay for both our trips since he drew first blood.

  6. I think one of The Zombie Elf's friends brought Percy outside. It's so hard finding good friends when you're three LOL!

    The Zombie Elf still is terrified about the new Percy. I hid him and am considering just getting a different train. Maybe Gordon or James? What a boy. Does he have it bad, or what :0)

    I cannot wait for Cade to read this LOL! But be careful, I had a kiddie bike race with him. That man cheats! ;)

  7. I actually have always had a fear of those trains and their creepy faces...zombie Thomas is NOT helping! What a roller coaster though. At first I'm cracking up, then I'm trying not to cry and then back to laughing again! This is just one reason why your blog is so wonderful!

  8. I once baby sat a kid who played with the Thomas the Train...... all hell would break loose when the older kids would hide one of his trains. It was mass chaos.

  9. I ABSOLUTELY AGREE with kt's comments today--BOTH OF THEM!!

  10. aww. I think you should somehow try to explain him that the train is not bad. You always come up with great ideas and stories. Just work your magic on him :)

  11. Just thinking..."They get crude when they turn seventy..." What b%&#@%*t! I turned crude way before that. In my 50's I was part of a regular women's golf threesome. Barbara decided to give us all Indian names. Barbara thinks she was MEMORY OF BUCKET--she doesn't remember for sure. Charlene, who could follow & find any ball hit anywhere, was EYE OF EAGLE. My name, for some f%@*#%g reason I never understood, was MOUTH OF SEWER.

  12. "Mouth of Sewer" LMAO that is awesome. Yeah, Cade thinks the real transformation happens at 70.
    I can already be pretty crude sometimes and I'm 28. Imagine what I'll be like when the true transformation takes place :0)

  13. hmmmm... what to say what to say... you, WOMEN should know of all, that when a man says something it becomes contorted and distant like a woman's mind... actually KT, i'll take you up on that duel. but remember i will WIN. and for you fish duckling. uve just proved me wrong. on 2 things. women become crude WAY before 70, and YES THEY CAN ALSO GOLF? wow... =P

    P.S. i can't wait for the flack i'm about to get!

  14. Ok, first: I thought it was just my ... helpful ... neighbors who have a fit if I pick up hammer or turn on a weed whacker. Same belief system I guess. That's why I mow the lawn when they're all at work.

    Second: If it makes you feel better I called my daughter's coach a stupid blankety-blank without knowing she was standing behind me. Oops.

    Third: Awe. Sad. He'll be ok, or he'll go to therapy when he's old and blame everything on his train getting broken and turning into a zombie. Joking.

    Fourth: Love your stories.

  15. Oh, Cade--you young punk! At least you probably liked the "young" part. Be very careful about challenging us old broads--most of us could probably beat you with one lip tied behind our backs!

  16. You can always tell the little Zombie Elf that the new train is the twin of the one that you chopped in to pieces. Tell him they came from the same Mommy and they were sent to different homes. Now that Percy is gone, Mercy came to your house to live so that Zombie Elf wouldn't be lonesome.

  17. LOL! Zombie toys, a whole new stage in child entertainment...oh, whats this world coming too? I miss Dr. Suess :)

  18. Oh and sorry but I did it again, couldn't help myself....Hee hee

  19. You write so beautifully and honestly. You made me cry and my face is all snotty, damnit.

    I couldn't help comparing your sensitive (and likely much more stable) child to my children. They purposely maim and dismember toys so they can pretend to be medics practicing battlefield medicine while under attack from Nazi's. Their success rate (along with their bedside manner) leaves a lot to be desired. And just yesterday, playing 'restaurant' my niece(age 4) and my daughter (age 6) made me 'stew'. The main ingredient to this stew was Barbie doll parts. Yum!

    Your husband forgot to mention the other great/not-so-great age for women- 40. At 40 you become invisible, which is great if you are tired of fending off the advances of every penis-carrier with poor judgement, otherwise, it can suck.

  20. I love that you call your son your Zombie Elf! Too funny!

    Also, I’m a new follower— wonderful blog! Stop by my blog and follow me too? :)

  21. CADE: " contorted and distant like a woman's mind... actually KT, i'll take you up on that duel. but remember i will WIN".

    OK you're on. I'll meet you at the Leaning Tower of Pisa (on the 7th bell), in 1 week. But, after that crack I change the weapons to food. Yeah, yeah, food.....Italian Italian food fight is on my bucket list (well, it is now). Only you have to stand on the down hill side of the tower (this old gal should have some advantage). And since I am soooo old and crude I get to yell: Stupido uomo! -Ratto volto! -I'll fare una offerta che non puoi rifiutare!...............kt

  22. Elisa, your story brought tears to my eyes amid my chuckling. Zombie Elif is so sweet. And your family seems, to me, to be so special. That must have a lot to do with your specialness.

  23. You had me giggling for 15 minutes.
    The wkend got by me (stinkin' migraines), so I did a back-log reading. You are somethin' else! The trike/bike contest? Genius. Going to work with Cade? Only you, girl.
    I wish you were my neighbor!

  24. Susan you can't have her. I'm keeping her sorry. In fact should I move I'm moving to a house where there's a vacant house next door and moving her with. Nah.
    Cade, Seriously dude we need to spend more time together. You obviously don't understand how it works. When our female um balls drop at 30 we also develop what I like to call I don't give a sh@# syndrome.. That is when the crude starts. Men. So uneducated. sigh

  25. That's such a hilarious comment on women & aging - I love it!