Tuesday, December 20, 2005

You Can't Write Dialogue Like This

If you're Canadian, or very very lucky, you have probably seen the National Film Board short, "The Big Snit". We had our own big snit this weekend chez nous.

The scene: Sunday morning, a week before Christmas. General cleanliness in the house, but a few piles of clutter here and there. One pile of clutter is topped by a beautiful wreath we bought last week. The wreath is very delicate and decorated with dried prairie rose hips. I am in clean-up-for-Christmas mode. Jim is sitting morosely in a chair because he has a bad cold and is cranky. Sprout is fluttering hither and thither, spreading Sprout-like babble and chaos.

I pick up the wreath, and head for the front door, to replace our usual wreath with the new one.

Jim: Don't hang that on the front door!
Me: Why not?
Jim: Because it's going to get wrecked. The berries are all going to get crushed and fall off of it. It should be hung somewhere else.
Me: Like where?
Jim: Like in the kitchen on the wall or something.
Me: Fine. Here. Go hang it up.
Sprout: [Oblivious to bickering] Dat is a bwoobewwy!
Jim: I'll just put it right here. [Places wreath back on top of the pile of crap that I'm trying to get rid of.]
Me: You're just going to put it back where it was? I'm trying to clean up for Christmas!
Sprout: Mommy, I found a bwoobewwy!
Jim: I'm sick.
Me: I'm sick too. (But we've already established previously that my cold is not as bad as Jim's.)
Jim: Oh, so you're going to turn this into an Aunt Frieda-esque 'I'm sick but I do what has to be done anyway, and you should too' conversations.
Me: [Grr.] I just want to get the wreath out of the way. If we didn't plan to hang it up, why did we buy it?
Jim: Fine. I don't care. Throw it in the garbage for all I care. Throw it away if it's bugging you.
Me: Fine. If you don't care, and it could go in the garbage, I'm going to hang it on the door. After all, if it gets wrecked hanging on the door, then we'll throw it in the garbage afterward.
Jim: Go ahead. Fine. [Stomp, stomp, stomp, as he shuffles outside to smoke cigarettes.]

We've both been laughing at ourselves since this happened. Being married can be too funny sometimes.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Lauveen said...

Ok, but what's a "bwoobewwy"? Is that where monkey mook comes from? Or is he calling a rosehip a bwoobewwy? Does that mean the rosehips ARE falling on the floor? Does it mean Sprout is colour-blind????

So many questions, so little miniature Christmas tree light illumination.

4:43 pm  

Post a Comment

<< Home