The Birthday Interview

      Hey y’all!  It’s Bentley and I am doing today’s post as a birthday present for my mom.  Today is not just the first day of spring, or World Frog Day, but it is also her happy birthday!  She is really, really, really old vintage.  I think she shared a school locker with Methuselah.  I’m going to ask her a few birthday questions about her past.  I’m sure that she will be very excited to be able to relax and scratch my belly while I ask the tough questions.

Bentley: “Happy birthday Mom.  Can I get you a pillow or a new hip?  I know at your age it is important to keep you comfy, so you don’t get a cramp or stove up on me.”

Mom:  “Thanks Bentley.  I am fine for now, no numbness, no cramps, no need for a hip.  Do you have real questions for me?”

Bentley: “You cut me to the quick.  Who is the lead anchor on BFTB NETWoof News?  I didn’t get that anchor seat by doing fluff pieces.  I’m going to start with a question that has been bothering me.  You said that your first dog was a Beagle named Barney.  Mom…I watch television.  Barney was a dinosaur.  You don’t have to pretend with me.” 

Mom:  “Come on Bentley, dinosaurs weren’t roaming the earth when I was a kid.  I’m not that old!  You are talking about the purple kid’s dinosaur named Barney!  My Barney was definitely not a purple dinosaur.”

Bentley: “Hmmm, ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’  That’s from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.  You remember little Billy Shakespeare from grade school, don’t you?”

Mom:  “Billy Shakespeare…good grief, Bentley.  Exactly how old do you think I am today?”

Bentley: “From the looks of your cake, I’m guessing 100 or 101.  You’re not going to light all of those, are you?  Talk about global warming.”

Mom:  “Why don’t you make sure the fire department is on speed dial?  I’ll eat your piece of cake.”

Bentley: “Wait, I still have a few questions.  I was looking through some of your baby pictures.  I didn’t see any with your family’s covered wagon.  I thought there would be at least one of you on the Chisholm Trail.” 

Mom:  “Bentley!  My family did not own a covered wagon!”

Bentley: “Oh, I’m sorry.  Y’all were really poor, huh?”

Mom: “Nobody owned a covered wagon!  People drove cars when I was a child.  I have never ridden the Chisholm Trail.  We traveled on the roads and highways.”

Bentley: “Oh, my bad!  How about electricity, did you have inside lighting?”    

Mom:  “Look, I was born after the invention of electricity and before you ask, I had running water and an indoor toilet too. 

Bentley: “Okie dokie.  Simmer down; I don’t want you getting yourself all excited.  It’s probably best to keep someone of your advanced age calm.  Here, try petting my head.  That’s supposed to help.”

Mom:  “I’m perfectly calm.  You seem to think I am much older than I really am today.”

Bentley: “I am just going on the amount of mail that you get from those people at AARP.  You seem to be one of their favorite causes.  What did you do for entertainment back in the day?  Did you text message your friends all of the time?”    

Mom:  “There was no such thing as text messaging.  No cell phones.  Telephones were attached to the wall by a cord too, so you couldn’t walk around and talk.  The only time that you read a message from a friend or loved one was when they wrote you a letter or a note that was folded and passed to you between classes in school.  For entertainment , we watched one of three channels on our television or we could go the drive-in theater.” 

Bentley: Ah-ha!  I knew it!  I’ve seen those drive-in movies on The Flintstones.  Did you bring Barney the “Beagle” to stick his head through the top of your foot-pedaled car?  I wish that I’d know you back then.  I’d love to sit on a dino’s head and watch a movie.”

Mom:  “The Flintstones are a cartoon family.  We didn’t have to pedal our car and again, there were no dinosaurs.”

Bentley: “Sure, sure, sure.  *wink-wink  According to this article, you are what is known as a baby-boomer.  I saw something on the news this week that said people who start a new career at your age are late bloomers.  You know that you started writing three years ago and started blogging a little over one year ago.  Hmmm, very interesting.  Let me do a little scribbling here.  Yep, it’s official!  You are a late bloomer baby-boomer.  Try saying that five times fast.  No don’t, I wouldn't want you to pull a muscle.”

Mom: “You are too good to me, Bentley.  Let’s go eat some cake.”

Bentley: “Happy birthday Mom!”     

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