Mommy Knows Best
by Ginger
When I was a child I wanted to be a spy (Actually I still want to be one). I kept a journal called Ginger's A-1 Spying & Survival Guide. Of course, family members were the most convenient targets. I wrote down things like "Wed.: Caught Nicky picking his nose and eating it. Gross."
I got the most dirt when mom and dad took one of their all day shopping trips up to San Jose (a half hour drive away). They'd come back with 80's-type knick-knacks (i.e. junk) like the golfer's head that hung on a wall. When you pulled his tie he'd laugh and spit water at you. Fun. I would smile and nod sweetly, not letting them know that I'd just found all of my letters to Santa in mom's sewing basket.
One day I dragged my two younger sisters into our parents' bedroom. Nothing too interesting in their closets, just a bunch of check stubs. However, when we got to mom's top bedside drawer we found a life-size, erect chocolate penis! We couldn't stop laughing that nervous laugh that comes when you don't know how you're supposed to feel. Up to that point it had never clicked: I had never thought of mom as a sexual being before.
A couple of weeks later, when they had gone to San Jose again, we went to check out the chocolate penis again. We opened the drawer slowly. This time it was more exciting because we weren't just happening upon it, we were purposely, even anxiously, seeking it. It was like we knew what we were getting into. Then we saw it, but this time the chocolate penis had a bite taken out of it! Well, after that I thought my mom was pretty cool.
A couple of years later I started sneaking into the folks' room when they went to San Jose to watch the Playboy Channel. By that time I had stopped inviting my sisters to come along. It didn't have a whole lot to do with spying either, now that I think about it. I guess that's why I never made it as a spy...
Editor's Note: Danke Ginger! Bis später, alligator.
