A friend came across these notes she’d written about her daughter and kindly and boldly sent me photos. She even allowed me to share them with you. Enjoy! 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
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
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
Speaking to his toys: “Hi. I’m Daniel. I’m going to keep you safe from Katherine. She is a big giant.” (In case you haven’t guessed it, Katherine is his big sister.) -posted by a friend on Facebook
Something you never expect to hear from an adorable little blonde girl: “Mom! Come see my poop! It’s enormous!”
Yes, I did go see it. And she was correct. Read the rest of this entry
A few weeks ago we were visiting friends at their home near Buffalo, NY. There were some good lines worth sharing during those two days.
For instance, Jay, father of 5, asked his daughter, “Are you ready for dessert?” She responded by patting her lower stomach and saying, “I have room in my basement.”
I’ve gotta remember that line.
My nine-year-old daughter was helping Jay cook scrambled eggs one morning. “Do you like cooking?” he asked her. “Yes. I have to learn how so I can move out of the house.” Suddenly startled by her own words, she added, Read the rest of this entry
I told my three-year-old to wait a while before I put sour cream on her cheese quesadilla because the sour cream would melt if I put it on right away. A minute later, still waiting on her mother to give her sour cream, she complained, Read the rest of this entry