The Ninja Hat of Death

I am of the opinion that my life is for all practical intents and purposes pretty boring. I have two children, a husband I love very much, and outside of the fact that I have to return to work in 3 days, I pretty much stick around the house to hold and nurse a 3 month old, grocery shop, hold a three month old, load the dishwasher, hold a 3 month old, and that’s pretty much how my days go. So when I tried to think of a topic for today’s blog entry, I drew a total blank. I could talk about how my baby, affectionately known to us as Critter, is the grouchiest baby on earth today due to the shots he received at his Doctor’s appointment yesterday. We should have nicknamed him bear, he’s so grouchy……….

Or………..

I can foray down into my basement for a little while and dig out the Ninja Hat of Death for a portrait. The Ninja Hat of Death isn’t just any hat, and although it’s been packed in a box in our basement for a while, I think the time may come soon to pass it down to our oldest son, Smoochie. The hat belonged to Bonehead in high school, which amazingly enough keeps getting longer and longer ago- but I’ll not say how long ago in order to avoid the embarrassment.

You see, Bonehead was a bit of a nonconformist in high school. He never cut his hair, which was curly and red. He usually wore ripped jeans, and if my memory isn’t too fuzzy, his tennis shoes may have been duct taped together on more than one occasion. He also had an accessory that accompanied him everywhere he went.




The Ninja Hat of Death.

If you ran into Bonehead in the hall, there it was in all its glory, crammed onto his thick hair with purpose. In the lunchroom again- keeping his intelligence warm while he dined on Dr. Pepper and Peanut Butter Cups. I think he might have even worn it while he was running makeup laps in gym class. After school in the theater- still there.

In fact, the only time this hat came off his head during waking hours was when he felt like lobbing it as a Frisbee at unsuspecting victims. Namely me.

Now, my husband has a very long and very distinguished career of picking on me. I was 15 when we met, and I still have not seen the end of it. I can’t tell you how many times I would hear my name called by him and turn to acknowledge him, only to get biffed in the face by a camouflaged cloth Frisbee. Generally, it played out like a spliced together gag reel. Biff! Whoosh! Whack! Plunk! I began to have a very special relationship with The Ninja Hat of Death, and an even better friendship with the wearer of said hat.

The time came for Bonehead to graduate and I was a year behind him in school. At the end of the summer he went away to college and I stayed behind. A few days before he went away to school, he knocked on my door (he was my neighbor three doors down) and we talked for a little while in my driveway.

I forget exactly what he said, but it had all of the necessary ingredients. I was a good friend, he could tell me anything and I was never judgmental- that’s about all I remember of the conversation. What I do remember is that he removed The Ninja Hat of Death and gave it to me.

It was one of the sweetest gifts I have ever received.