Indoors Column: What is Normal?

I distinctly remember moments in my childhood when I realized my family was not exactly like every other family.  Specifically, I learned time and time again, that the rest of the world was not fluent in the language my Father had developed.


I still remember the blank look on my second-grade teacher’s face when I told her that the boys bathroom was out of terlet wipe.  I received a similar reaction from a Little League coach when I was explaining that a ball had struck me in the crotch.  He seemed to be completely unaware that boys are equipped with a pair of “double rejunctifiers.”


There have been several relatives whose actual names I never learned until their obituaries have published.


Anyone who knows my Dad well, cannot be surprised at the contents of my column from week to week.


Although I haven’t developed my own language, as he did, there are definitely a few unusual practices in our household that my kids just assume are normal.  This struck me a couple of weekends ago.


I was in the kitchen cooking when there was a knock at the door.  There was a man there, asking if we were missing a dog.  I told him we were not.  As I went to shut the door, I noticed the man was still looking me up and down as he backed away.


It dawned on me eventually, that I might have looked a little odd to him.  Earlier in the day, the boys and I had been wrestling in the living room.  I was pretending to be Kamala, the Ugandan Giant.  In an attempt to be authentic, I had stripped down to my boxers and drawn stars on each pectoral and a large crescent moon on my belly with magic markers.


I had answered the door in full costume.


When I explained to the kids what had happened with the visitor they seemed surprised.  They clearly saw nothing unusual about me answering the door with a painted bosom.  Callum crinkled his nose as he was clearly trying to make sense of it all.  “So…” he started, “This guy doesn’t like Kamala?”