In this thread, I described how I took the eldest Minimarli down and got his ear pierced for his 13th birthday. This occurred on the 21st. On the 27th, the boy headed south to spend a few days with his father. The boy returned home sans earring.
“Where’s your earring?” I asked, although I figured I already had a pretty good idea what happened.
“Dad thought it looked ‘queer-y’ so he told Grandpa to take it out.”
“What the hell does ‘queer-y’ mean?” I demanded.
“Gay. Whatever,” said the boy.
“That’s the dumbest damn thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and don’t ever let me catch you using that word like that again.”
“I didn’t say it, they did!”
“Did you want it taken out?”
“No, but they said it was in the wrong ear and we were going to a family dinner and there was going to be a gay guy there and they didn’t want him to think I’m gay.”
:smack: :rolleyes: :mad:
I’m going to gloss over what occurred next; it’s kind of a blur to me, but it involved my husband emerging from the computer room to find out what I was yelling about and me punching the buttons on the phone so hard I knocked it right out of my own hand while my son looked on with that indulgent expression he wears when Mom goes postal.
“He knew you’d be mad,” he said. Which explains why the cowardly son of a bitch hasn’t answered his phone now for almost a week.
So, to make a long story short (chorus: Too late!), since the hole had closed up I took the boy back down to Wally World and, at his request, got his ear DOUBLE pierced. If the Dink wants to mess with it again we’re going for three. And God help him when he finally works up the balls to start answering his phone again, because I’ve got some fury that’s been percolating for a week now and while I’ve always been on good terms with the ridiculous little shitwit, that’s about to change. He’s definitely overstepped himself this time. And he owes me sixteen bucks for the re-piercing.