Most kids, when taken to the toy section, look at the toys, maybe play a bit. My kids grab darth vader and storm trooper masks, toy blasters and lightsabers to launch a full assault on the barbie area….
Dave asked me to not open any boxes addressed to him since he ordered my birthday gift.
Soooo, this occurred today…
A package came and Scott brought it inside.
“I’m not allowed to open it.”
Scott : ” ok,” stares at the box he is still holding.
“It might be my birthday gift.”
“Oh,” Scott still stares at box.
“Sooo I’m not allowed to open it…but you can,” I give him a big grin…
“Ok!” Puts it down and tries to open it…
“Wait, Scott, I was joking!”
(FYI, this exchange is funnier if you know that Matt loves crabs…as a pets. He hates that people eat them.)
I’m such a weirdo…Driving to the store this morning, I passed a sign that advertise male crabs for sale. I blurted out my thought ” do males taste different from females?”
Scott gave me a what the heck look
I realized what I said and explained about the sign
“So,” i went back to my original question “do male and female taste different?”
“I mean, besides the fact it is messed up they are eating crabs.”
Matt, flashing a dimpled smile, “that’s more like it.”
I’m renaming my kids. From youngest to oldest, their new names are: Cupcake, Pumpkin, Cake, and Ninja. Cupcake loves her new name and proudly informs everyone of the change. Pumpkin showed slight dimples when I say his new name, Cake basically is indifferent and Ninja prefers this name to what I used to call him, Buttercup.
In case you couldn’t tell, I am in a particular mood. Don’t judge.
Today was cleaning day. Basic reset day, get everything clean and straighten up to then mess it up over the next week.
I miss posting yesterday and didn’t realize until this morning.
I decided that this week I would use my art teaching book.
I was judged today.
It is ok, I’m used to it. In fact I’m judged all the time. Everyone is, by their neighbors (keep a messy yard and you are instantly lazy not busy), by the people behind you in traffic (speed limit haters…all of them), even by your dog (who is just upset that you pull the 5 second rule on that piece of bread). People might not be vocal but trust me, people reading your status on Facebook might be thinking you spend way too much time discussing your lack of sleep (those who can’t, talk about it).
Bekah: something is wrong with my butt *looks at her hand*
Me ( apprehensive): what?
Bekah: something is wrong with my butt *still looks at her hand*
Me: I mean what is wrong with your butt?
Bekah (while grabbing herself): oh! I forgot to put on underwear
I’m still curious why she kept looking at her hand.