Joe was in his high chair. Not eating. I told him to take a bite. He leaned his head against the back of his chair, closed his eyes, and faked heavy sleep breathing.
First of all, when and how did he learn this?!
I said, “Should I take you to bed then?”
Still with his eyes closed, he lifted his pointer finger as in “one minute.”
Seriously, kid? So much for being asleep.
Delicious looking plate of green beans. That I didn’t cook, hence looking delicious. Image by Vu DOAN from Pixabay
When my parents were here for Christmas, Joe said, “I don’t need these green beans.”
My mom, trying to be helpful, said, “Green beans are my favorite!”
Joe said, “You can eat them then.”
Joe loves going outside. The problem is, Read the rest of this entry
Awful or awfully funny? You decide. Let me know in the comments.
We had guests over Sunday afternoon. One graciously explained to us about different phone plans. And providers. And phones themselves. And frequencies. And something about company buyouts. Plus a lot of numbers were being bandied about.
In other words, I was completely lost by about the third sentence. Maybe second.
Meanwhile, my children sat in the room with us listening patiently. Or so I thought.
When the dear fellow was finished downloading us with all this information, my youngest daughter said, “Finally. I wondered if he was breathing between words.”
I’m not sure if any of the adults in the room have laughed that hard in a long time.
Queen of spades courtesy of pixabay.
Except perhaps when we were playing the card game Tripoli and another daughter, not well-versed in the various suit names, laid down “the queen of hoes.”
After drying our eyes on our sleeves, we informed her that it is actually called the queen of spades.
Of course we try to teach our children manners.
Little Joe asked me for a bagel.
“Did you say, please?” I asked him pointedly. Read the rest of this entry
When he spills water on my pants, it looks like this.
Heart-shaped water spot. It got fatter and wider while I called for someone to grab the camera. It was actually more distinct earlier on, but you get the idea.
The other day I heard him calling me from across the house, “Betttssyyyy…. Betttsssyyy….”
Yeah, and as if that weren’t bad enough, more recently, he opened the screen door from the outside, leaned in and yelled, Read the rest of this entry
Twice actually. A few weeks ago, the 99c sale was on, calling me like a siren song. I hoped I’d see the CM guy so I could continue our funny banter. I was nearly disappointed until I saw him at the last check stand on my way out. (Click here and here for the first two encounters with the Chex Mix guy.)
“Hey, Chex Mix guy.” [I actually used his real name, but you know, privacy and all that.] When he looked up, I said, “Time to restock the Chex Mix again.”
Without missing a beat, he said, “Yeah, I knew it when I saw you come in.” [He probably didn’t see me come in.]
Today I was back. He walked by as I was checking out. Read the rest of this entry
My friend with three sons posted this on facebook:
Life as the Activities Director at Camp Mommy is seldom dull. Overheard this morning:
Boy 1 – “What should we do?”
Boy 2- “Let’s all get in the closet and fart. Last one standing wins.”
I’m glad I have three girls. Although, today the youngest said, Read the rest of this entry
We visited my parents at their new home in New Mexico. It was definitely spacious and went beyond the needs of two people. Nonetheless, my darling seven-year-old announced: “Our house is much bigger. When we get home, I’m going to be like, ‘Our house is so nice!'”
On a walk in my parents’ ‘hood. So incredibly peaceful and quiet here.
Another time she said, “These eggs are delicious, Nagy Mama.” (Hungarian for grandma)
“Why, thank you!”
“Because I like things that are burnt.”
The view from their front yard. I got to watch the sun setting on these hills every night. Gorgeous!
Read the rest of this entry
My oldest daughter’s birthday was yesterday. My parents gave her a set of little chicks. (Random? I know.)
Two are missing because they’re in need of repairs. Their wings fell off. I wonder how.
All three girls were playing with them for a bit when I heard my seven-year-old say something that sounded horribly suspicious.
“Here’s your (something starting with an f and ending with -king) chicks.” Read the rest of this entry