The boys settle at the table while I finish making a pot of tea. I’ve made blueberry muffins for breakfast, and as they help themselves to the muffins in the basket, Riley notices that one muffin resembles a human face.
Soon the muffin is serving as his puppet, and it has a lot to say.
“Heeey Matt,” the muffin says, “heeeeey. I’m Mr. Muffin, yeaaah. How you doing? Heh heh, heh. Yeaaah.”
Mr. Muffin sounds a lot like a cross between Beavis and the late, gravel-voiced DJ, Wolfman Jack.
“Hey! You better look at me when I’m talking to you,” Mr. Muffin tells Matt. “No respect, no respect.”
Matt is ignoring Mr. Muffin. This is remarkable, as Matt’s hobby this morning is being easily offended. It’s a hobby he’s really, really good at, as good as Riley is at his chosen hobby: being offensive.
“Hey kid,” Mr. Muffin continues, “you better look at me or I’ll kick yo’ a** !”
“RILEY!” I tell my 14 year old as I join the boys at the table. “No!”
But Matt and I are both laughing, and this only serves to encourage Riley.
“Mom,” says Riley in his own voice, shaking his head and throwing up his free hand in a gesture of defeat. “It’s the muffin. He has a really bad attitude. What?”
“Well, your muffin needs to behave,” I tell my son. “Your muffin better take it down a notch, OK? “
Riley sighs and looks admonishingly at his muffin. Then the muffin is turned my way, as if noticing me for the first time.
“Heeeeey baby!” Says Mr. Muffin. “Hey pretty lady! How you doin’?”
“How ’bout you give Mr. Muffin a kiss?” Suggests Mr. Muffin.
“Just a little kiiiiiiissss.”
I am not kissing a muffin, and I tell my son so.
Mr. Muffin turns to Riley, now.
“I just wanna little kiiiiss.” Says a sad Mr. Muffin to Riley. “I just need love.”
“Oh, I’ll give you kiss, Mr. Muffin, ” says Riley, giving the muffin a quick peck between his blueberry eyes. “Geez Mom, can’t you be nice?”
“I’m NOT kissing your muffin,” I laugh.
“Just a little kiss. ” sniffs Mr. Muffin, inches from my face. “Just ooone. One little kisssss.”
It’s kind of sad, and maybe if I kiss the muffin we’ll all be able to eat breakfast. I give in, and lean forward to give Mr. Muffin a peck between his eyes. As I do, Mr. Muffin opens his huge muffin mouth and makes lascivious noises:
“He hllllllaa, heh he he ehhhhhhhhhhh. Heh he he! Tongue Kiss! Heh!”
I feel so dirty, and a bit disturbed.