Grandfather the Pushover decided to allow his youngest grandson to bring a car with him into church this morning. In an effort to maintain crowd control, I mustered all my brainses and said, "No rolling the car in church." More or less. I stared meaningfully at the Grandfather who gave me a "Well, duh" sort of face that I have since learned means "Be specific, Lady." Number two grandson responded by growling at me and I discovered he was a rather accomplished growler. Very menacing. Kinda rolled in the back of his throat. I knew he could hiss, but this...wow. He proceeded to growl and gnash and swipe his dastardly claws throughout most of the service. After I did my thing, I went to sit down and a friend's daughter asked if she could sit with us and of course I said yes and so we sat in a happy little clump. A tiger, myself, and a zombie princess (that's my friend's daughter). Believe me, if she were suddenly a zombie princess she would be the happiest person on the face of the earth. Totally.
Which got me to thinking. Who in the heck am I in this little scheme? I sound like Mother Hubbard. "No rollin' yer car in church kiddies! And if ya set foot on mah lawn ahm gonna take a switch to yer hide and throw you all in hell mahself!" Right? And I'm sooooo not like that. In fact, I think if I saw myself I might beat me over the head sometimes and scream "Enhance your calm!!!!"
So I've figured out that I am really...
Can you tell? NO? It's my expert camouflage. I just look like someone's mother. It's the PERFECT disguise!
From henceforth you may address me as: