Ok Dear Readers, I am once again soliciting your opinions and advice because presumably if you are a recurrent reader of my blog we might perhaps be functioning on a similar frequency. Or maybe it's more like you stop by to watch what kind of train wreck I've involved myself in this time. Either way, I am in a conundrum.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I got an email from a family member today asking me to pose a question to you, Dear Readers. Here is the scenario: Wife is sitting at the computer which is around the corner from the kitchen and she hears her husband cough up a nice "loogie" as we called it when I was a tadpole. She doesn't hear him go into the bathroom (which is not far from the kitchen) to presumably dispose of said loogie. So she goes into the kitchen to ask to ask him what he did with it. He said that he put it into a napkin and threw it into the trash.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A couple of Saturday's ago we all went out for our usual pancake breakfast at a local restaurant. While waiting for our food, I overheard a conversation between a Father and Son in which the Father was quizzing the Son in preparation for a test or something along those lines. After answering several of the questions correctly, the child was hailed by his Father as being a rock star.
Friday, March 13, 2009
As a child I loved carrying a purse. I remember rummaging around the house looking for things to fill my purse with. Food was usually high on the list. Cheese sandwiches in particular. Followed by whatever articles I could swipe from my Mother's vanity.
In the mornings when we get ready to go to the gym, I tell Elsbeth to go get a bag and select some items to take with us. This keeps her occupied in the car. It takes her quite awhile to make the selections and I'm sure it involves a very furrowed brow and much consternation because when I check her room later, her toy baskets have been pretty much upended.
Her choices always amuse me and yesterday as I was looking at what she had packed, I decided to interview her on her little inventory. What follows is the real conversation that occurred. I hope it makes you laugh as much as it did me.
ME: (Holding up her purse) What's this?
Ellie: My purse
Me: What's inside?
Ellie: Some toys. (she says this nonchalantly as if it is so obvious I should be ashamed of myself for not knowing this fact)
Me: (Holding up a small Etch a Sketch) What's this thing?
Ellie: A Wonkin
Me: What's it do?
Ellie: It draws a Donkin, Mommy. (again, she is not amused with my complete ignorance of wonkins and donkins)
Me: (Holding up a toy baby bottle) What's this thing?
Ellie: A bottle. It's orange. It's for feeding Mouses.
Me: Holding up a pair of mesh Barbie underwear: And what are these things?
Ellie? It's her diaper.
Me: Who's diaper?
Me: Why did you choose to put it in your purse?
Ellie: So I can give it to Daddy. I need to give it to him so he can take it to work.
Me: (Holding toy car keys) What are these things?
Ellie: My keys.It goes to my car. (she seems to be getting exasperated with my ignorance of what to her seems like things Mommy should obviously know)
Me: Well, where is your car?
Ellie: (again, sighing at me) In the garage, Mommy.
Me: (Holding a tiny hairbrush) Wha.....
Ellie: (Cutting me off, she seems to be tiring of my interrogation) It's a brush, it's for paper. (she's been beginning to eyeball my pen and paper) OH, I need that to brush my hair.
Me: (Holding up a pair of eyeballs) And what the heck are these?
Ellie: Oh, those are Tato's (Mr. Potato Head) eyeballs. They help me take my shoes off. (At this point she attempts to use the eyes as some sort of macgyver-esque shoehorn. The attempt is unsuccessful, but she remains unfazed.
Me: (holding a toy cell phone) What's this?
Ellie: My phone. It calls Daddy. (she is intensely eyeing me writing all of this down) She flips it open and says: Daddy can you get me a pen so I can draw? (She has not taken her eyes off my pen this entire time) She hangs up and says to me matter of factly: Daddy says I can have that pen.
Me: ( Holding up some small post it notes with scribbles on them) What are these?
Ellie: Ohhhhh, those are my messages. I need to do my messages. Can you give me that pen?
I have to hand it to her. She was persistent. And at least there were no cheese sandwiches.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
For all the times I've moved across this country, if you tally it up, I've spent the majority of my life in Mississippi. In the south one doesn't experience the change of seasons to the extent that we do in Indiana or say, here in D.C. It pretty much goes from mild with occasional chilliness to DAMN YALL, IT'S REALLY HOT! The Earth doesn't get a chance to go into winter or as I like to call it: funeral for the year. I think that's why New Orleans smells so bad. It hasn't had a good bath in centuries. And NO, Katrina doesn't count. There was sewage in that water.