My youngest son, (we affectionately refer to him online as Spawn, though that’s not his given name, so calm down, Sharon) was helping me pick up the living room the other day. We had rearranged the furniture slightly, and uncovered some things left over from the holidays that hadn’t been put away properly yet, and we were sorting through all that when we found this odd roll of black netting.

I had bought it a few weeks prior because I stupidly thought I was going to use it as some kind of pet door blocker (it was not a decorative or hosiery type of netting, but think tennis or badminton netting). I’m not sure what was going through my head that made me think that would work, but we’d tried it, and it was a huge fail, for both our little dog and our tiny little murder goblin of a cat. So I guess we’d just rolled it back up and tossed it in a box to collect dust.

I looked at it in resignation laying there, and Spawn picked it up.

Spawn: What should I do with this?
Me: (huge sigh) That was just a really dumb impulse buy on my part. You may as well throw it in the trash. We’re not ever going to use it.
Spawn: (looks at it intently) What if we … used it for, like … maybe, a mourning veil…
Me: … Well …
Spawn: (whips it over his shoulders like a pashmina and then arranges it over it his face like a widow’s veil) Like this.
Me: … Well…
Spawn: You know…
Me: I know, but—
Spawn: …Like somebody died.
Me: … We don’t really do funerals as extra as you see on TV, sweetie. I like where your head is at, though.
Spawn: I still think it’s a good idea.
Me: So you’re saying we should keep it. Maybe we could use it for a Halloween prop?
Spawn: That’ll work.
Me: Ok. You know where I store all the spooky things in here. Go shove it in there.
Spawn: YAY!!!

While I both applaud his “don’t waste things” attitude, and worry over his blossoming hoarding tendencies at the same time, he still KILLS me with the way he is SO dramatic and EXTRA at all times.

The world is not ready for this child.
I’m telling you.

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MyLove Barnett

Hailing from the backwoods of north Mississippi, MyLove Barnett spent a decade tripping up the corporate ladder as an accountant before trading in her stilettos and pencil skirts for jeans and flip flops and the privilege of working for various platforms as a writer, editor, and content manager.Although she has an MBA and a BS in accounting, she's found her passion falls more in the creative arts of writing and graphic design. She lives, writes, and raises hell on the outskirts of Tupelo in the small community of Nettleton.

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