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Virginia The T-Devil
By Steve Wingate
Author's Note: This article was written in 1993 when my daughter was just 16 months old. It has stayed hidden in an old folder with some college papers in it, and was discovered in November of 2002 while we were moving. Virginia is now eleven years old, and this article embarrasses the hell out of her. Which is exactly why I'm putting it up on TCGOB. ---SW
As a child my favorite cartoon character was the Tasmainian Devil of Warner Brothers fame. I can still remember thinking how neat it would be to have one for a pet. I'd keep it in a little cage, feed it raw meat or the occasional stray cat, and let it shred my sister's dolls. A t-devil would also come in handy to ward off school bullies. I'd open the cage, point at my tormentor and say "SNACKTIME!" The hapless bully would then be engulfed in one of those cartoon tornadoes, and when it was over, there would be nothing left but a big steaming pile of bully sausage. My pet would be standing close by, drooling triumphantly. I never did get a t-devil of course. My folks wouldn't even let me have a hamster.
Now twenty years later I finally have a t-devil of my own… her name is Virginia, and she's 16 months old. She drools as much as a t-devil, but wrecks twice as much havoc. Her mother won't let me keep her in a cage, and the only raw thing she lets me feed her is Gummi Savers. Instead of shredding dolls, Virginia prefers to shred everything her mother and I own. For instance, every book we have now bears some kind of deformity to tell of it's encounter with Virginia-- drool damage, footprints, broken spines, torn covers, and other such injuries.
One day while we were sleeping late, Virginia decided that it would be a scream to squash a grape right in the middle of every book within her reach. From the bedroom, all we could hear was a slap/thump kind of sound followed by a squeal of delight. Still mostly asleep, we decided not to worry about since we couldn't smell any smoke or hear approaching sirens. Most damage like this occurs in those early morning hours when no one in their right mind would be awake… except of course for a very small child. It is usually during this time that she plays her favorite game called "Guess What I'm Destroying Now". It is a complex guessing game where she brings us objects (or pieces of objects) and we have to guess what she's shredding.
ME: What is this?
JENNIFER: It looks like some sort of knob. Maybe we'll find out when she brings the next thing.
ME: Whatcha got there?
VIRGINIA: Gah! (She then puts another mystery object on the bed and waddles out of the room.)
JENNIFER: It's a wire.
ME: I have a bad feeling about this.
JENNIFER: Here she comes again.
VIRGINIA: Gih! Gah?
JENNIFER: It's a head light.
ME: aaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!!!!
It usually doesn't take us that long to guess because her hints are quite obvious such as bringing us an uprooted aquarium plant or a video tape with six feet of tape hanging out of it.
Every morning I hear that sound-- that whirring/gyrating noise just like in the cartoons. It gets closer and closer until I actually see that little gray tornado come buzzing into the room. When the whirring stops, Virginia is there, wearing nothing but a diaper and an evil grin. In her hand will be will be some object of destruction or torture, such as the ladle she uses to whack me on the skull, or the alarmingly red Kool Aid she likes to pour on the sheets.
If we're not awake, she has very innovative ways of doing so. She wakes Jennifer up by biting her on certain fleshy body parts or by sticking a finger up each nostril. Once, she stuffed half a bag of marshmallows in my wife's ears, mouth, naval and nose before she finally woke up. Once mommy is awake, she starts on me by lifting my shirt and jamming her index finger as far as it will go into my naval. If that doesn't work, she'll go get me one of those little Tootsie Rolls out of the litter box and hold it under my nose until I gag myself awake.
After an entire day of similar escapades, Virginia checks out for the day around 9:30. We put her to bed, then just stand there at her doorway with our arms around each other. It's a good feeling…. knowing that she can't tear up anything else to shreds for at least another seven or eight hours. Then we go do what all young couples do when the children are finally in bed… fall asleep. I finally understand what my father said many years ago; "God sure knew what He was doing when he gave children to young people."
Of course God, like my father, has one hell of a sense of humor.
2002 Car Guy of Benchfield