The Hat, part I

Sunday we returned home from our family reunion.  It had been a very successful reunion, not because we were able to have all of our family in one place at the same time; not because no one was seriously hurt, except that one unfortunate incident between Daughter 1's butt and a rock; and not because our specific cabin was the only cabin with properly flushing toilets on the entire property.  No, those reasons made it fabulous, but what made it successful was that I wore a floppy hat the entire weekend.

I look like I'm a California movie star, huh?

On Friday morning, when we picked up my own momma for the reunion, I traipsed through her house gathering that which she had forgotten, and I spied a very cool black and white striped floppy hat.  I grabbed that thing and threw it on my head.  When I got back out to the minivan, The Dad said, "Take off that silly hat."

"Take off that silly hat."  The command rang through the now-charged air of the minivan.  I narrowed my eyes and pulled the hat down over my head with great resolve.

"I," I said with strength and power in my voice, "I will wear this hat all weekend long."

And that was my plan.

Friday evening as I got back into the minivan after checking out a local BBQ joint, the wind that dashed in through the passenger side door, caught the hat and flew it into the back seat.  As I grabbed it, I yanked it down onto my ears.

"See the floppy ears?  The hanging dewlap?"

I flipped my gaze to him and fixed my glare square on the area between his floppy ears.  I hissed, "Rude!"

"Cow," he said and then he pointed at me. Or beside me.  Or behind me.  I'm not really sure where he pointed, but I am certain he said cow.  I'd bet a rib-eye steak on that.

"Ass!" I shouted and pointed at him.

Daughters 1 and 2 began giggling, probably because they knew that their momma wouldn't stand for being called a cow.  Regardless of how "silly" he thought I was.

And speaking of silly.  So was his face.  His lip was curled up and his nose wrinkled as his pressed together his eye brows.  "What?" he asked.

"Don't call me a cow," I bellowed.

"A cow?"

"That's right, mister," I said channeling my urban youth accent, "No one calls me a cow up in my minivan, yo."

"I didn't call you a cow," he excused himself.

"You did so!" I shrieked, looking back to The Daughters for reinforcement.  They giggled.  "You also said I had floppy ears and a hanging dewlap."

He laughed.  I didn't.

I think their floppy ears are cute.

"Honey," he snickered, "I was talking to Daughter 1 about the Brahma cows back there."  And then he pointed back behind me.  I'm pretty sure that's where he was pointing this time.

He laughed.  I grinned, but only with half of my face.

"But," he continued, "the hat looks absurd."

I just pulled it down over my ears even tighter.

To be continued on Friday...