{"id":3906,"date":"2006-04-21T00:00:00","date_gmt":"1970-01-01T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3906"},"modified":"2016-09-23T10:05:56","modified_gmt":"2016-09-23T17:05:56","slug":"not-me-by-koss-klobucher-understudy-for-leslie-dinaberg","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3906","title":{"rendered":"Not Me (By Koss Klobucher, understudy for Leslie Dinaberg)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Courtesy

Courtesy Adam S., Flilckr.<\/p><\/div>\n

Do you remember how every time Bil Keane was sick, he’d have little Billy draw the Family Circus<\/a> comic like a real six-year-old would draw a Family Circus comic… if that six-year-old was extremely precocious with the same soul-crushingly bland sense of humor as Bil Keane?<\/p>\n

Well, Mommy is sick, so I’m Billy this week. But I promise I won’t do any “Not Me” or dotted-lines stomping through clothes-line jokes. Even though I’m only six and I’ve never actually read a Family Circus cartoon, I’m sure that I’ll grow up to have the same disdain for it that my father does, since I worship him and want to be like him in every way.<\/p>\n

Nonetheless, I decided to steal this idea from Bil Keane, even though my mommy has two Ls in her name like a real person, unlike some people.<\/p>\n

If, purely as a hypothetical, my dad was helping me write this column, and he was stuck trying to describe exactly how he felt about the Family Circus in the first paragraph, then I might chirp in with something like, “Glassy, shallow, hi-tech, furious, other stuff. Just think of adjectives.”<\/p>\n

I like to help. And, I’m good at Mad-Libs.<\/p>\n

The other thing I might do while I’m writing this column is sing a ten-minute song composed purely of stream-of-conscious ramblings, and then ask if it’s good that I’m singing, and ask how it’s helping.<\/p>\n

I suppose I should let you know why Mommy is sick, and how she got that way. My dad thinks it has something to do with how I came into their room the other night at two a.m., crying. I told them about a nightmare I had where I stepped on a bunch of cats, and where Dad got really mad at me.<\/p>\n

I know if Mommy was in my nightmare, she wouldn’t have gotten mad at me just for stepping on cats. She hates cats. And we’ll never have a cat in this house. I know. I know. If Mommy was in my nightmare she’d probably raise my allowance for stepping on the cats. So, really, she got herself sick by not showing up in my dream.<\/p>\n

Anyhow, I told them my nightmare, they patted my back, and then I barfed all over Mommy’s side of the bed. I felt better.<\/p>\n

So that’s my dad’s theory. I think she’s sick because an evil Genie was released from a jewel and spread this green mist stuff all over her, which made her look very green and stony.<\/p>\n

You know what I’m saying?<\/p>\n

Man, these columns are tougher than they look. I just asked Mommy how long they had to be, and she said 600-800 words, and I’m only about 400 into it. I’m tempted to start one of my rambling tales about when I went skiing with ghosts. It was a long time ago, when I was about three or four, and I was…<\/p>\n

Sorry. I digress. It’s part of what happens to us six-year-olds when we recover from being sick. We get strange little bursts of energy, and… whoa! Did you hear that hiccup? I’m going to check out Pokemon.com.<\/p>\n

I sure hope Mommy gets well soon. I want her to start playing with me again, ’cause it’s not that much fun to bounce on the bed while she just lies there and moans. I also miss the story-tales of her life she tells me right before I fall asleep at night. Dad tries, but most of his tend to be about getting drunk in college, which seem kind of inappropriate to me.<\/p>\n

Mostly, I miss her working, because I simply do not have the focus for this. What do you expect? I’m six. Maybe I could draw a bad comic, but not write a whole column. Billy had it easy.<\/p>\n

Phew. Finally. 600+. I’m going to go give Mommy her column, but first I’ll visit all the neighbors, and draw huge dots to mark my path. Just my luck, I’ll run into some of their cats on the way and step on them.<\/p>\n

Not Me!<\/p>\n

Leslie Dinaberg will be convalescing and, if she loves me, ignoring the e-mails you send her at email<\/a><\/h6>\n

Originally appeared in\u00a0in the\u00a0the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 21, 2006.<\/a><\/p>\n

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