Mom Like an Egyptian

I'm still living with my parents.
That's still happening.
I can only assume that I'll be living with my parents until they're not living any more.
Then I will continue to live with them in spirit.
While I continue to use their toaster and coffee perk.
I asked my mother what she intended to do with her dolls.
When it comes time for us to put her in her own collector's box.
For those of you who never used to get drunk with me in high school, my mom has these...dolls.
Seemingly hundreds of them.
They mostly occupy their little cabinet.
Which they commanded my father to build.
But some of them have managed to find their way to end tables.
Swing sets.
The downstairs bathroom.
Do you have any idea how unsettling it is to glimpse a doll in the mirror while you brush your teeth?
The Warford men mock them endlessly.
And when my mother cooks the roast (dies), I'm sure we'd all as soon toss the dolls on a pyre.
But Mom is way too sentimental for that to be a possibility.
And I'm the only male in the family who is sentimental enough to realize this.
So I guess the dolls will go to me.
But, it's still fun to tease her about it:
"What are we going to do with the dolls?
Cause we can't sell them. You'll want us to keep 'em."
"We'll be putting them on eBay immediately," announces Colin.
Who is considerably less sentimental.
Then it dawns on me: "We'll bury you with them!"