The Rat

"Don't worry, HP, I only told them EVERYTHING."

 

I think it’s time to introduce Bub to the genre of gangster films. Because he is currently headed down a one-way street to fish-sleeping with his utter and holistic lack of loyalty. Note example A:

“Daddy, HP tried to escape diaper change,” Bub said. It was first thing in the morning, apropos of nothing. All I did was walk in the room, looking for coffee. Wrong room.

“Wow, you mean to tell me that Mommy changed HP’s diaper and HP tried to roll away?”

“Yes.”

“Well, holy moly, did you notify the authorities? She could be anywhere!”

“There she is, Daddy.” Of course she was. Because she’s immobile. And also, Bub, who cares?

“Well, we can close the books on that one. She can’t really get far, can she?”

“HP a rolling-over ma-CHINE!”

“Yes yes, but why are you telling me she tried to escape?”

“…”

“You know, you could have covered for her, Bub, instead of throwing her under the bus,” I said, shaking my head. “You fucking rat.”

“What’s a rat, Daddy?”

“Well, Bub, a rat is a filthy piece of vermin that spreads entrusted secrets around like the bubonic plague, betrays all its friends, and cowers in sewers, feasting on feces.”

“Oooooooh, that sounds GOOOOOD!”

And then there’s the time he ratted his own Bubbe out. Yeah. His own beloved, fawning, IPad-owning, Dum Dum-purveying Bubbe. We walked in after a babysitting session, and Mommy says to Bubbe:

“Mom, why is your mouth blue? Oh my God, are you OKAY??”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

End of conversation. Thought nothing of it. Perhaps a circulation problem. Then we asked Bub what he did with Bubbe. He couldn’t wait to dessimate their relationship.

“We ate DUM DUMS!”

“Oh, Dum Dums, huh? Probably weren’t supposed to tell us that.”

“I ate a red one!”

“Oh, that’s my favorite.”

“And Bubbe have BLUE one!”

“Real nice, Bub. Didn’t even ask about Bubbe. You fucking rat.”