In Which H.o.p. Gives Up On Me

H.o.p. has a pretty good sense of humor.  And he’s been doing what he can to cultivate it, with intention.

He spends his Friday nights watching the old Monty Python’s Flying Circus on BBC and chuckling, guffawing, laughing uproariously.  He has a great appreciation for absurdity.   Last night it was blancmange aliens turning the English into kilted Scots who all promptly went marching up to Scotland, leaving England empty.  He loved it.  And the Dead Blue Norwegian parrot skit.

Though the show’s not meant for kids, he enjoys “That Mitchell and Webb Look” as well.

Several months ago he went through my blog and website and read all the political cartoons I did a couple of years ago.  I don’t consider this part of his cultivating his sense of humor but he did it with a curiously dedicated intention, laughing over some cartoons (he loved the Sally, Dick and Jane ones) and asking me about others that he didn’t get.  He has gone through the site several times since then and will sometimes comment on the cartoons, how much he likes them.

We were at the book store to get some books for H.o.p. and Marty points out another Sally, Dick and Jane book and suggests I get it, hoping I’ll do some more of the Sally, Dick and Jane cartoons.  I buy the book but have no anticipation of doing any more of the cartoons.  I also buy chocolate, with every intent of eating it.

This afternoon, H.o.p. pulls out the book.  “Come on,” he demands, “do some more Sally, Dick and Jane cartoon satires.”

He really likes the cartoons I did for some reason.

I say no but he keeps insisting that I look through the book and try to come up with something.  “Read some news and do another political Sally, Dick and Jane cartoon!”

I read the news every day, but I’ve no intention of doing another cartoon.  I do sit and look through the book.

He passes through the room.  “Finding any inspiration yet?” my ten-year-old son asks.  The way he says certain things surprises me.  This surprised me, the way he said it.

“Well, something occurred to me,” I say.

“Great!!!!”

“But it’s not political,” I add.

“Oh, hmmm,” H.o.p. said, turning away, obviously disappointed.  “I thought it would be political,” he said, sounding even more disappointed and deflated.

And that was that.  H.o.p. gave up on me.  He wandered off and said not another word on the matter.