Or, kidlit for grown ups, part four. A couple of APs has decided that if they didn’t write and publish and sell a book, their adopted child–excuse me, their “supernatural” child, whom they hadn’t even adopted when they decided to write a book–could never know his mother loved him. (I will never understand why such couples think they can’t just say it, but that’s beside the point.) They call their book Twice As Tight. The spiky urchin calls it “Snooky Ookums.”
All night long they call each other Bestest Mommy, Bestest Daddy
All they do is talk like Aa-a-ay Peeeeees
(upper-middle class white USAian APs)
She’s his genius mommy-wom
(for realizing adopted children have another mother)
He’s her brilliant daddy-wad
(for deciding that writing yet another book *appropriating that mother’s voice and story for money is an enlightened act)
Here’s the way they primp and whore:
“Love us more, love us more, love us more!”
All night long they call each other brilliant writers, brilliant parents.
All night long adoptees yell “Go to Hell, go to Hell, go to Hell!“
While Mom and Dad cry, “For goodness’ sake:
How can we ever make
Money from our honey bunny
*No, really: “They…wanted to be a voice for women who place their children up for adoption.” Isn’t it tragic that so many women are born without mouths?