Free SAHM I am by Meredith Efken Page A

them—even though he couldn’t see them. The interview went something like this:
    “Hi, Griffith! This is Jennifer. Can I ask you some questions?”
    Tristan, by this time, has grabbed the phone and called the ambulance, angry that I didn’t do it before. I try to explain that I was waiting for him to get home because we need someone to stay with Seamus and Cosette. He’s still mad.
    Griffith’s voice sounds muted and yet echoey. “Are you on TV?” he asks the reporter.
    Her perfectly coifed brunette head bobs as she smiles and nods at the kitty tower. “How’d you get your head stuck, honey?” She holds her microphone toward the tower.
    “Seamus.”
    Ah, the truth comes out. I should have known.
    “Who?”
    “Seamus, my big bruver. We were pretending. Seamus said he was the cat. But I wanted to be the cat. Seamus said I could be a woodpecker.”
    At that point, Tristan booms out, “A WOODPECKER, SEAMUS?”
    Seamus scuttles under the porch and doesn’t come out until the ambulance arrives.
    Jennifer’s face twitches and she lets out a strangled sort of cough. Composure regained, she points the microphone back at the tower. “And the kitty tower was your tree?”
    “Uh-huh. I pecked a hole in it. Seamus said woodpeckers stick their head in the hole to get bugs. But I didn’t want to eat bugs! But Seamus said woodpeckers think bugs are as good as candy.”
    “So…” Jennifer finished for him, “you put your head in the hole.”
    “And now it won’t come out!” His voice wobbled, and I knew he was going to cry again, so I interrupted the interview. About this time, we heard the ambulance siren. I made some inane statement to the reporter, and she bustled off to talk to the neighbors.
    The EMT guys tried to get his head out, too, but Griffith started screaming again, so they stopped. It took them a few minutes to come to an agreement about the best way to load him into the ambulance. I rode with them, and Tristan took the other two over to a friend’s house before coming to the hospital.
    The doctors had to give Griffith a tranquilizer shot. Then they used a little cast saw to cut around the hole enough to take the tower off. (I guess the old lady’s suggestion wasn’t so far off.) I had to hold him up since he was unconscious, and I could hardly bear to watch. I kept thinking about whatwould happen if they slipped and accidentally cut his throat. But they didn’t.
    After he woke up, they checked him again and released him. Our friends videotaped the news segment for us. And this morning, Tristan went to work and then called me, complaining that everyone in the company had heard about it or seen the story on TV and were teasing him unmercifully.
    Seamus got in big trouble and is grounded from playing at the neighbor’s house for a month. He also has to do chores for us and the neighbor to earn money to pay for a new kitty tower.
    Griffith is okay now, but I think he may end up being slightly claustrophobic from here on.
    Why do these things always happen to us???
    I’d come up with a good quote from the Bard, but my brain is too fried….
    Z

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From:
VIM
To:
Rosalyn Ebberly
Subject:
HPWA ceremony
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    Ros, I just wanted to remind you that November 12 is my induction ceremony for the Houston Professional Women’s Association. Mama and Daddy are fixing to attend, and I’d be riding high if you was able to come, but whatever melts your butter, of course. It means so much to Mama and Daddy to have at least one child pursuing a real career, so I’m aiming to make this special—for them, you know. If money is a problem, Frank and I would love to cover the plane fare foryou. We’re walking in tall cotton these days. At least you don’t have to worry about trying to get time off from a job. Every day is a vacation day for you, right? :) Just let me know ASAP, okay? Gotta run…this professional woman has work to do, so there