Once a month Konga Line shall crown one wonderfully beastly girl Rumpus Queen and one gloriously beastly boy Rumpus King. Send in stories of your little goblins for a chance at the crown. If your mini-monster is named Rumpus Royalty, I’ll post your terrible tale and send you a fabulous FREE KONGA TEE of your choice.
And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Rumpus Queen Aurelia, whose stories were submitted by reader Edda from Belgium (Cool! I already have an international readership!)…
My daughter, Aurelia, was invited on a playdate and the deal was she’d have lunch at her friend’s place. When I went to collect her, the mother commented, “She’s a picky one. Doesn’t like much, does she?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
So the mother tells me she made ravioli, and Aurelia very politely refused to have more than one piece. I’m surprised as she’d had ravioli before.
Right as I’m expressing my surprise, Aurelia pipes in, “I’m very sorry to say, Ma’am, but Mummy makes them fresh, from scratch. I like those. The ones you made were out of a can, and you should take what’s left back to the shop and ask your money back. They were yucky!”
And yesterday Edda adds…
By the way, this morning yielded another pearl:
Imagine sitting in a meeting. You’re just in the process of explaining figures to the brass and sweating bullets ’cause your Senior Consultant “forgot” to do a couple of things you need to do your job. Phone rings, and the brand-spanking-new and inexperienced receptionist, in her eagerness to do everything herself, transfers the call to the general SPEAKER phone of the venue, instead of to your (discreetly silent) mobile phone… It’s your daughter, calling from school.
“Mummy? I’m in the principal’s office and I feel… So… Soooo…”
Silence.
Followed by very telling sounds RETCH!*-*PUKE!*
Me: “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better take this call outside.” Delivered with a straight face, no less. Made use of my “regal walk” to step out of the meeting room, even managed to hide the knee-wobble. Yay me.