Prodigy...?

Malcolm Gladwell stated in his book What the Dog Saw that many great artists can conclusively be grouped into one of two categories: they are either early or late bloomers. There is some pretty concrete evidence that great creative genius either bursts forth at a young age or is cultivated, often painstakingly, over time. Think Picasso vs. Cézanne. (If you are really interested in the piece, you can read it online here.) With this understanding, draw your own conclusions about my son's comedic prowess after reading this post.

Sooooo Jack goes to an AMAZING preschool where they teach him all sorts of things that no 5-year old really needs to know. When you pick your child up from this fantastic school, you are supposed to check a hanging folder for any permission slip/"a child in this school has recently been diagnosed with _____ disease"/artwork types of papers.

(Jack's folder is invariably crammed full of junk because I am only SUPPOSED to check this folder regularly, not REQUIRED TO BY LAW.)

My inability to remember to check this folder has, until now, only caused mild problems...like not realizing he was supposed to dress in a certain theme on a certain day, or that several kids in his class have ringworm. Pretty small on the whoopsie-scale.

(Do you feel a sense of foreboding yet? Cuz you're supposed to right here.)

So one day I grabbed a large handful of stuff from the folder (no doubt one to two weeks of accumulation) and tucked it in Jack's backpack to peruse after he went to bed...and maybe after I'd had a few cocktails. Turns out it was a good thing that I had those cocktails because you will not be able to believe/predict/comprehend what I discovered...

Note: The martini-glass magnet was added by someone else at a later date. Details to follow. (Bears like this get around.)




If at first you don't understand what you are seeing, allow me to assure you, I know how you feel. Maybe some of you have an inkling or a suspicion of what you are looking at. Perhaps some of you are sexually experimental and KNOW what you are looking at. (You know who you are...and so do I.)

This is an art project that has officially been named: Bear with Merkin.

To the uninitiated (to this blog--you probably want to run now, to merkins--congrats on your non-baldness), this is a paper bear that has a large chunk of very dense fur glued to what can only be described as his "pubic region." Now, according to the internet, there is a popular item that people purchase, called a merkin, which is, indeed...apubicwig.

(I can't really fathom why you would need a wig for this area unless you are recently received a great deal of radiation, or perhaps you are the victim/lover of someone practicing to be an esthetician and you are generous with your body, but also ashamed of the follicular impediment. I just don't know. Anyway, the reasons don't really matter. These things exist. And apparently Jack is aware of this.)

So at this point I've gotten over my shock, gotten myself another cocktail, and I am now delightedly calculating how much fun it will be to show this to Dan and watch his reaction. And perhaps video tape it.

Well, it was, and I didn't (I know, insert Snookie noise here), but we both got an enormous kick out of Bear with Merkin and tucked this priceless item away to astound future guests (and, of course, the internet).

A chance soon came when the one and only Scott B. came to visit. I patiently waited until everyone was nice and tipsy and in the middle of a game of "Loaded Questions" when I sprung it on him. (OK, I forgot about it until a game of "Loaded Questions" in which I pretty much answered every question with a phrase containing the word "merkin.") Eventually, after explaining to Scott B.'s normal, intelligent, and not-yet-perverted girlfriend what a merkin was, I realized I had an EXAMPLE. So out came Bear with Merkin. Scott B. immediately fell in love and begged us to give him Bear with Merkin. Dan and I finally acquiesed as Scott B. has put up with a LOT during the course of his mutual friendship with us. So when Scott B. and girlfriend left to return to Maryland, Bear with Merkin made the return journey with them (and was placed in a position of honor on their refrigerator...affixed firmly with martini magnet).

It was only recently that I realized how much I missed Bear with Merkin and that I had not documented his amazing existence, so I got a picture of him in situ...et voilà! Here is Bear with Merkin in all his vodka swilling glory, proud and out with his pubic wig!