Our family took a mini trip to a rented house in a quaint little mountain town known for its apple cider and apple pie. On the drive, as we got farther and farther from our city by the sea (and sea level), Husband warned the kids of several possibilities, due to the altitude:
Their ears might start to hurt, due to the altitude.
The air is thinner, so it might be harder to breathe, due to the altitude.
It’s much colder, due to the altitude.
These possible side effects were mentioned several times… due to the altitude.
At the house, one daughter said the water tasted different, “maybe due to the altitude.” (I suggested it was probably just the different fridge.)
As another daughter climbed into bed with socks on, I was shocked to see how filthy the bottom of her feet were.
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“Oops!” my nine-year-old said as she opened the orange juice.
“Did you spill it everywhere?” I asked.
“Not everywhere,” she said. “I didn’t spill it in Japan.”
Can’t argue with that logic.
Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. (I’m just going to pretend you’ve noticed and have been concerned.) Now I seriously want that delicious looking glass of o.j. With a little something extra in it. Triple sec? Amaretto?
What’s your drink of choice?
Alphabet puppy looking so sweet and innocent.
Joe has a dog toy with alphabet buttons along its back. When you hit one of the letters, it says the letter name and gives an example of a word beginning with that letter.
For instance, if you hit the D you’d hear, “D, dog.”
If you hit two letters rapidly, you get odd results. Read the rest of this entry
My younger two girls decided to dress as tourists, complete with hats, purses, and a camera. Interesting, I thought.
Then one gave me a bright smile and said, “We’re robbing a museum! We’ve got our ninja clothes on underneath.” She lifted her pant leg to show me her black pants. “We packed gloves to cover our fingerprints, and I’ve got ninja stars in my purse.”
The younger daughter pulled out a toy phone. “And I’ve got this to communicate with!”
They set toys up around the room to pretend to steal. Read the rest of this entry
When looking for a story to post this week, I checked my plethora of drafts where I’ve housed snippets of funny things to save for later.
So prepare yourself for a series disjointed stories while I clean up my draft folder. For instance: Read the rest of this entry
I found this story in my drafts folder from about two years ago!
Raccoon photo courtesy of Pixabay.
We spotted a raccoon. In our yard.
Normally this would be met with a little excitement, mingled with a twinge of fear as in: Don’t let the kids get close; it could be rabid.
But tonight the sight meant: We have chickens! Get that b*stard out of here!
No one said that, of course. The children, after all. But Hubs and I were thinking it.
He grabbed a stick and chased after the raccoon, which jumped on the lattice fence. As it was crawling down the other side, Hubs jabbed the stick through a hole and got the racoon in its belly. It fell the remaining two feet and scurried off.
[If you love all creatures, great and small, including chicken killers, my apologies.]
“That will keep him away. But not for long,” Hubs said.
The children went on the offensive. Armed with sticks and a surprisingly functional homemade bow and arrow, they kept guard, marching back and forth along the fence. Read the rest of this entry
Little Joe was so sweetly and lovingly holding a baby doll, hugging and kissing it, I thought, “Awh, he’ll make a good dad some day, or perhaps big brother.”
Then he banged the doll’s head on the ground and yelled, “Ow!” Not once or twice, but three times.
Nice, baby. Niiiice. A few seconds before “Wham! Wham!”
She’ll turn it into a holder for her princess dolls.
Rather inventive, no?
A friend shared this story about her five-year-old daughter:
Daughter: “Mommy, tell me a secret.”
Mom (whispering): “I think you are sweet and funny.”
Daughter: “Now, I’ll tell you one… (whispering) Read the rest of this entry
Some time after the kids had been playing outside my bedroom window, I walked into my room, looked out the window, and saw something that made me freeze, back up slowly, and call down the hallway, “Girls? Could you come here a moment?”
Then, pointing, “What. Is that?” Read the rest of this entry
Joe pointed to my husband’s shirt hanging up on the clothes rack and said, “Dada.”
“That’s right, Joe. That’s Dada’s.”
Then he pointed to my husband’s sock and said, “Dada.”
Me, thoroughly impressed: “Yes, Dada’s.”
Then he pointed to Read the rest of this entry