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This Used to Be My Playground

Candy's Column

This Used to Be My Playground

This used to be my playground

This used to be my playground

Mr. Candy and I are regrouping from a long day o’ traveling, from LAX to Dulles to Harrisburg Airport, then down the Turnpike to my hometown of Mechanicsburg.   Phew.

So here I sit, in the very same kitchen where, according to my mother, I used to clear out all of the pots and pans so I could sit in the cupboard.  Sit and…  well, that’s it.  Just sit there.

I was a very simple child apparently.

Flying at six months pregnant was much more comfortable than I’d anticipated, no thanks to the stingy United Airlines flight attendant.

ME:  [EYEING THE TINY CUPS] May I have two cups of water, please?

The flight attendant’s grip on the water bottle tightens.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT:  We’re going to be coming around with drinks again, you know.

ME:  But — [RUB MY BELLY IN SHAMELESS ATTEMPT TO PLAY THE PREGNANCY CARD]  I’m pregnant!  I’m always thirsty!

FLIGHT ATTENDANT:  Sorry…

I look over at Mr. Candy, who’s snoring beside me.  Drool hanging from his mouth.  (Which is beginning to look startlingly appealing to me in these parched times.)

CANDY:  Okay, then.  May I get a cup of water for him?

The Flight Attendant knows I have no intention of sharing that water with my hubby.  But she grudgingly complies — and I drink both cups in less time than it takes to say “bee-yotch!”  *SIGH*  I miss the good ol’ days, when complimentary pretzels and entire cans of soda flowed as freely on airplanes as my husband’s drool.

Despite that NASTY little speed bump, it was a fairly drama-free day and I’m happy to be back in the ‘Burg, where my family is holding a baby shower for us on Saturday.  Hard to believe this could conceivably be the last time I spend alone with my parents.  You know, before Baby Girl arrives and thinks she’s the center of attention or something.  (Can you tell I’m the baby of my family?)  This is definitely a time of celebration and sentimentality; a time to comb through my own childhood photos, and sit and reflect.

You know what that means:  time to clear out the pots and pans!  I’m sure I can still fit my, um, head in there.

Yes, I’m still very simple.

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

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