Cheryl Will Do

Girly-Boy

Steve and Will were packing for their weekend away from home.  Will had been told where his boots where and asked to get them. He went to retrieve them and returned empty handed.  I sent him back to look again and he returned with one boot.

If I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times, "Where one shoe is, the other will be close by."  (Seriously, how difficult of a concept is this?)

Seeing as I had only averaged four hours of sleep a night for the past three weeks, I was not only unexcited about looking for something Will was capable of finding, my mind wasn't as sharp as it could have been.

In frustration, I struggled mentally to find something to threaten him with that would be so horrible he would immediately go in there and not come back until he had two boots in his hands.

"If I go in there and find the other boot, can I call you ...."

What?  I needed a really girly name.  Something so frou frou he would never want to be called that.  Think.  Think.  Girly name.  Without any notice the following comes out of my mouth:

"... Cheryl the rest of the night?"

Immediately I hear Steve choke then start laughing like a frigging hyena in the back ground.  And, truth be told, I'm more shocked than he is.  The only Cheryl either of us know is my ex-husbands wife, and she is not a girly girl at all.  She's a nice enough woman; has her own scars, prejudices, and problems -- as do the rest of us.  Definitely not a frou frou woman.

"What?" Will asked, in confusion.

"If I go in their and find your boot right where I told you to look, can I call you Cheryl the rest of the night?" I asked.

Then I taunted him in a sing-song voice

"Cheryl, it's time to brush your teeth."
"Cheryl, put on your pajamas."
"Cheryl, it's time to turn off the TV."
"Good night, Cheryl, I love you."

(And there goes that damn hyena again.)

Will found his other boot in seconds.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Steve is looking for the portable DVD player.  While standing over the dining room table, he asks me where I said it was.

"It's on the dining room table," I told him.

"I don't see it."

(Have I mentioned that Will comes by his inability to find things naturally?)

"If I come in there and find it on the table," I asked him with a grin,  "Can I call you Cheryl the rest of the night?"

Before the laughter died down, Steve managed to locate the DVD player.

"You know," I told him, "if we're going to keep using this we need to find another name instead of Cheryl."

"No," Steve responded, "Cheryl will do."

And I guess it will.