Krinzie Kan Cook!
I don't know if I've ever written about Krinzie, my daughter's imaginary friend. Krinzie is both friend and sister, and happens to live next door to my sister up the road. She moved there from Africa, where she lived in a dark purple house that was painted like a giraffe.
(and for the record, I'm not nearly imaginative enough to make any of this up.)
Krinzie has aged and regressed in the 18 months or so that we've known her. She seemed to have birthdays every! day! for awhile there. If you've ever thought you were losing your ever-loving mind, try singing happy birthday to an imaginary daughter who's turning 57. For the 6th time in a week. When she previously had turned 42, 9 and 21.
There used to be some other sisters, one of whom was named Nouvana, but I'm not sure what happened to her. Back to Africa? I don't ask for details.
Not unlike the 'Not Me' character in the Family Circus cartoon, Krinzie sure gets into crazy hijinks sometimes, boy howdy! She spills things on the floor, uses my lipstick, and once hid my keys and I couldn't find them for 45 minutes. Ha ha ha! That crazy Krinzie!
Recently, Sassy snuggled into bed with me. Not one to turn away the all-too-infrequent snuggle from my 4 1/2 year old, I cuddled right in and went nose to nose with my girl, until I realized nose-to-nose was, more aptly, nose-to-foul-morning-4-year-old breath.
"Eeewwww, Sassy!" I said. "You have wicked kitten-breath! No, wait, tiger-breath! Actually it's worse than that--your breath smells like day-old lobsters!"
Without missing a single beat, my precious girl replies, "That's because I went over to Krinzie's house in the middle of the night, and we ate crabcakes."
uuuhhhhhhhh....oh. That is so totally not what I expected to hear.
F*&king Krinzie. How many birthday cakes have I made her and I don't get a thank-you, let alone a stinkin' crabcake.
This is bullshit.