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!
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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
My youngest loves cats and kittens. A recent visit to the library netted her this book, which became our bedtime “story.”
Ridiculously cute, am I right?
For kicks and giggles, I was subtly adding words in my “reading voice.”
For instance (not a direct quote from the book): “Cats are fun and playful just like Momma.”
“Cats are beautiful and smart just like Momma.”
Then my husband walks in and says, Read the rest of this entry
My husband missed dinner because a work meeting ran long. As I was serving our youngest her food she said, “It feels like Dad died.”
“That’s a sad thing to say!”
She looked down, thought about it for a while, and then changed her statement to Read the rest of this entry
My sweet, darling, adorable red-headed six-year-old, E, never ceases to astound me. But not always for good reason.
Here’s an exchange between her and her older sister, L, while they stirred up strawberry jello.
E: It’s blood.
L: No, it’s a flood.
E: It’s a flood of blood.
L: No, it’s a strawberry flood.
E: It’s a flood of strawberry blood.
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You know how people have different ways of expressing that they didn’t hear something you said? There’s the classic, “What?” the “Pardon?” and the “Come again?”
Apparently in Texas they have their own expression for this situation.
I was in the Dallas airport, ordering food, and the woman taking my order said something I didn’t understand. This resulted in an overly lengthy, somewhat comedic exchange.
I said, “What?”
She said her thing again.
I still didn’t catch it. Whatever she said made no sense in my brain. And her bit of accent wasn’t helping either of us. I was forced to say, yet again, “What?” Read the rest of this entry