Xena's #1 Fan

It's been a while since I've posted an embarrassing story about one of my kids, and I'm prepared to remedy the situation. This story came to mind the other day as I was driving home, and I determined to relate the tale without disclosing the identity of the child involved, who will hereafter be called Mr. X.

When Mr. X was roughly four or five, a television show by the name of Xena: Warrior Princess exploded onto the airwaves with a burst of leather-clad girl power. Xena had a hottie side-kick, a signature banshee-call, a bustier, and skirt with flaps like a gas station car wash. It was as mesmerizing as it was mediocre.

Except to Mr. X.

To Mr. X, there was nothing mediocre about it. Mr. X wouldn't miss an episode of Xena: Warrior Princess if he had anything to say about it, but I didn't think this was too unusual.

I didn't realize how much Mr. X loved Xena until one evening, when I walked into the living room to find Mr. X, clad in his little footie pajamas transfixed by his favorite show. Not seeing me behind him, he suddenly rose to his feet, shuffled across the floor, wrapped his fat little arms around the television, planted a big, long, wet kiss on the screen, and whispered, "I love you, Xena."

Needless to say, he hates that story as much as I love it. Now if he ever brings a girl home who looks remotely like Lucy Lawless, I'm sure I'll pee my pants.