Uh…. Come again?

“That shirt is too small for you now. Put it in your little sister’s drawer,” I told my oldest daughter. A few hours later, younger sister discovered the “new” shirt and came into the kitchen, literally strutting, hips gliding side to side, and one hand poised delicately on her hip, much to the amusement of her parents. (Where does she learn these things?) Clearly, she was proud to own the shirt, and I am thankful that my children have yet to hear the fallacy that there is something wrong or abhorrent with hand-me-downs.

Sadly, the moment had passed by the time I got the camera ready. You can tell her smile is more forced now, but her original regal countenance was almost too much!

In other news, I said something yesterday about one of the girls hording something–toy princesses most likely. Ever interested in expanding her vocabulary, today my eldest complained that the youngest was

Something fishy is going on here

“I’m not dead yet!” (A little Monty Python reference for you.)

I was in the supermarket doing some food shopping. I turned my back for a second while I picked up a cooked chicken. When I turned around my four-year-old was stroking a fresh fish on the counter.

“Why were you stroking the fish?” I asked her.

She replied, “I wanted to see if it was real.”

“Was it real?” I asked.

“No,” she answered.

“I think it was,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t because I

Now that’s good advertising

It’s kind of a shame that our seven-year-old can read so well. When I’m at the computer reading some sordid article or having a private conversation through I.M. on gmail, I have to be sure she isn’t anywhere in eyeshot if I don’t want the inquisitive little bugger to read something inappropriate, scary, or just none of her beeswax.

I never thought I’d have to be concerned about her reading junk mail. When my husband came home and plunked the mail on the counter, G. meandered over and soon started crying. More specifically, she was weeping. She wasn’t sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, she just couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face. Why? Because:

You can keep the change.

Purse, pre-disaster (Photo credit: pit pitoca)

 

I was babysitting five little kids. Their mom came home and we were talking for a bit. She then went to get her purse and couldn’t find it. As she was going down the hall to her bedroom, I heard her yell. Seems she looked in the bathroom door on her way by and there

What’s that SMELL?!

(Re)construction of a dinosaur from the bones of a rabbit. Perhaps Eddie should have tried rabbit bones?

Since my mother forbid me to continue digging in the yard for dinosaur bones, I hatched a plan to construct my own dinosaur skeleton.

After weeks of saving and hoarding, my mother followed her nose to my bottom dresser drawer where she discovered my collection of

Not something you normally see at church

I’m sure many mothers out there know that when your child is eating something, while you are out and about, and that item falls on the ground, without a nearby trash can, that item will end up in the nearest pocket of your diaper bag, where it is promptly forgotten, usually turning into crumbs by the time it is discovered again.

This occurred when on of my children was eating a traditional white, round Christmas cookie. It fell on the ground, was quickly stowed in my bag, and forgotten. If only it had been smooshed into crumbs.

At church, several days later, upon finding our pew, I leaned to pick up the toddler from the aisle, diaper bag on my shoulder, when the forgotten cookie rolled out onto the middle of the floor. My excited three-year-old daughter, knowing this cookie only by its irreverent family nickname, exclaimed loudly,

Just too cute not to share

My seven-year-old opened an educational magazine to an article about the life cycle of a butterfly. She then placed a stuffed caterpillar on the page in such a way that it looked like it was reading. She said to me, “Look, mom.

Is that another term for a “tramp stamp”?

English: (“tramp stamp”). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another of my husband’s darling students (see previous story), on a geography test, wrote that the capital of North Dakota was not Bismarck, but

A much tastier version of tar and feathering

When I was a little girl, my mother tells me, I emptied a gallon of molasses over myself and followed it with

Oh, that wasn’t the end?

Cover via Amazon

It’s a good thing the theater was dark. When I took my two-year-old son to see “The Lion King,” he was overwhelmed by the  part where all the animals are lined up to greet the new king. When the music finished its crescendo and finally came to an end, my son