Tuesday, April 12, 2011

It Obviously Skips Generations ...

There are a number of syndromes that occur from time to time in humans in which an extra chromosome is present. For example, while most females have an XX karyotype and most males have XY, about 1 in 1000 people are born with an additional chromosome: XXY (Klinefelter’s syndrome), in which a male carries two Xs, XYY, in which a male carries an extra Y, and XXX (Trisomy X), in which a female carries a third X chromosome and often winds up in the Adult Entertainment industry.

A far less common form of aneuploidy, XXG, is one that affects The Live Acorn, and people afflicted with it carry an extra Goofball chromosome. Unfortunately, while the aforemented three syndromes have little or no effect phenotypically, XXG manifests itself in ways at once sad and hilarious.

Saturday, for instance, she had an all-day volleyball tournament, and therefore, as is the tradition around these parts, decided to put on her grandmother’s old pearl ring the day before so that her finger would swell up, rendering it unremovable by morning, and resulting in her being disallowed in the matches until it was off.

Initial attempts at removal employing bathroom soap as a lubricant were unsuccessful, so I was dispatched to the grocery store for other potentially helpful items:

Dead Acorn, to Store Worker: Excuse me, I’m looking for a bag of ice and a container of lotion.


Store Worker: (brief pause) Umm … aisles 7 and 2.


Store Worker: (under her breath) Sicko pervert.


Dead Acorn: Hey, it’s to get a ring off of a girl’s finger.


Store Worker: Sicko pervert homewrecker.

I made my way back up to the tournament and got the Live Acorn to soak her hand in ice water, which was quite a task in and of itself. After about 20 minutes, a coach came over and inquired as to our progress, and apparently decided that it was time to stop fooling around. She got The Live Acorn to stand up, and gave surprisingly detailed instructions on how she would pull the ring while The Live Acorn would compact the flesh as it was being torn and push it back wristward under the the band.

This operation took approximately 3 1/2 days, with the coach straddling her arm, The Live Acorn trying to stifle her screams, and a team of players surrounding her and wincing in empathic pain. The ring finally did come off, and after some gentle massage, she was able to get into the matches. We had this conversation after:

Dead Acorn: So who was that coach?


Live Acorn: I don’t know.


Dead Acorn: Well, who was that team standing around?


Live Acorn: I don’t know them, either.


Dead Acorn: Ummmm …


Live Acorn: Yeah. You allowed a crazed stranger to nearly rip my finger off while you stood by. Way to go, dad. Looks like Father Of The Year will have to wait another trip around the ole’ sun.

I don’t think I need to rush too fast to clear a spot in my trophy case for that award.

FATHERLY BOASTING NOTE: The team won their final four matches, all against higher-ranked teams. The Live Acorn, while woefully underplayed by her coach (well, so it seemed to me, at least) during most of them, played the entire last game, and did extremely well, making a strong case that she should start. She rocks.

5 comments:

Niamh B said...

Go live acorn!!

Ah are ye supposed to be checking who everyone is that attacks your kids? God's sake, ye'd never keep up.

The Dead Acorn said...

I assumed not ... yeah, I don't have time to screen people all day!

Domestic Oub said...

Y'see, this whole post is just yet another example of why exercise/sport is bad for us and should be avoided at all costs.

The Dead Acorn said...

I know, D'Oub! The Live Acorn clearly got the athletic stuff from the EMDAMOTLA (Ex-Mrs-Dead-Acorn-Mother-Of-The-Live-Acorn), as I am just fine with sitting around moving as little as possible. Pretty sure the Goofball gene came from my great-great-grampa Euclid, though.

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