I’m not a big supporter of the spooky side of Halloween but
I am a fan of free chocolate. All those
Mounds bars that my kids don’t want are happily consumed by this momma. So in the spirit of free candy and all that
is good and chocolate, I share this true and spooky
story with you.
The Brain Transplant
“I found your brain,”
the mother said to the father in passing one autumn evening. She looked down the hall at her husband on
the couch next to their seven-year-old son.
Seeing the younger one’s wide-eyed reaction she immediately followed
with, “Yeah, Thing 2, every boy has a brain transplant when he turns eight. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you
to be nervous.”
“What?!?!?!” the nearly eight-year-old boy replied with fearful
disbelief.
“Yeah,” the father chimed in, “the brain your mom found was mine. See, here it is.” He holds it up for Thing 2
to see. “But don’t worry, you really don’t
remember it. That’s why I can’t remember much from my childhood before I was
eight.”
“Nuh uh! You guys are just teasing me!.....Right?! That’s not
your brain,” Thing 2 says with a lot more question than conviction.
At this point the mom is seeing $10k lost if only she had a
secret video of this whole conversation to capture and send off to AFV. Her son’s wide eyes are priceless and she can
barely hold back her grin.
Later that evening the nine-year-old male child with a
mostly unhidden smile tells his younger brother, “It’s true. I had my brain transplant last year. And when you get your new brain you know all
your math facts. It’s kind of nice.“
“Nuhh Uhhh!” shouts Thing 2, still not certain but pretty
sure his family is trying to freak him out.
She isn’t sure what
made her do it. It wasn't planned, it just came rolling off her tongue. Somewhere along the way of raising three male offspring
she exchanged her clear conscience for a good laugh. Perhaps it was all the
years of potty mishaps, tantrums, and endless sibling squabbles. With three sons
you learn to laugh before you dissolve into tears. Like when one small boy manages to splatter vomit on five surfaces in the bathroom, just inches from the toilet.
Whatever it was that made her say it, the mom knew she
needed to put this seven-year-old’s brain at ease. After a few hours feeling less guilty and more
amused than she should she decides to fess up to the truth.
“Thing 2, you are right, that isn’t your Daddy’s brain. It is coral.” Just
as the relief is registering fully in his big brown eyes she adds with a
twisted grin, “They don’t really let you keep your brain after the transplant.”
“Nuhh uhhh!!!! It’s just coral! They. Don’t. Give. Boys. A. Brain. Transplant!!!!!”
She just smiles and walks away…some days I really think they should!
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