Perhaps I Should Ease Up On The Sarcasm In Parenting

Me: Bo, what's going on? Why is your sister crying?

Bo: I dunno, maybe because she's a baby?!

My Weekend in 667 Words or Less

Last week we saw a groundhog munching on grass and peeking through weeds as we waited in a McDonald's drive-thru. It is the first time I have ever seen a groundhog. Besides the one Bill Murray stars with. I had no idea they were so big. Unless this one was an Amazon groundhog. Then that would make sense why I was so surprised at it's size.

Later, Avee told J that she saw a "Squirrel-Dog". While I thought that was pretty funny, I secretly wished she had named it a Squirrel-Hog. That would SO get assimilated into the Nobody vernacular. I'm just sayin.

Nextly, I read The Other Boleyn Grill a month or so ago. It was an excellent read, I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was one of those books that I couldn't wait to get lost in whenever I got a chance to read it, and I thought about frequently when I wasn't reading it.

I'm very cautious in what I "suggest" or "subject" J to when it comes to "chick" stuff. I don't want to lose credibility with him, and so far it's worked for us. After I finished this book, I told him he'd probably enjoy it. He started reading it, but I could tell it wasn't pulling him in. Not like the Medicaid Guidelines Pamphlet I saw him reading once when we were dating.

But it just took time. He's hooked. He said it's not a page turner, but he's enjoying it. It's true, it's not a page turner per say, because you pretty much know the ending. Anyway, last night as he we were going to sleep he mentioned something about Mary Boleyn and I went on and on about how different the movie was from the book. Not what he wanted, but I am woman, hear me ramble. He was fading fast, so I shut my yapper.

However. He had his arm sort of flopped across my pillow above my head. And a few seconds after I finished talking, he was fast asleep and his arm came up and smacked back down on my pillow. I thought it was a pretty aggressive "sleep twitch" but I didn't think much more. Suddenly it flies up again and slams back down on my pillow. That was too odd for me. And what do I do when I see odd? I laugh. Just like everyone else. So I started to giggle. I was sure J was too asleep to even know. But suddenly he mumbles, "Augh! I was throwing something in my sleep." I laugh again. But he finishes, "To the king." I started laughing really hard. He says, "Don't laugh at me, I have the king's ear, I can tell him some things."

Then I was laughing uncontrollably. I think I fell asleep laughing. I could be wrong, but I think that's a smidge more normal than falling asleep in 21st century Iowa throwing things at a 16th century English king.


It got cold here again in the great state of I-oh-wuh. I really thought I could count on some normalcy in seasons here. I was wrong.

So, Bo wore a long-sleeved shirt under his soccer jersey for his game Saturday. I am happy to report that for his second game, there was considerably less wrestling, tackling and warrior shouting, and a little more playing.

I couldn't help but notice how much he looked like a little English chappy playing Rugby. I hope chappy doesn't mean something bad.

He did not want me to take a picture. I'm bigger, I'm bossier, and I bullied him into it.

I'm going to get tickets to go see Wicked in Chicago. Anybody gone to see it there? I'm trying to decide if I want Orchestra Right or "Dress Circle" second row, center. I'm thinking Dress Circle, but it's a bit further back. Anyone have an opinion? I want to do it right, I don't want to have to go back again and again and again.

Going Out In Public Gives Me Blog Fodder

Question.

Ha! Just kidding. It totally drives me batty when people start their questions by stating, "Question." As if I were too completely dense to ascertain what a question sounds like. Unless you are Monotone Man, I really don't need the heads up, thank you very much.

I've made some references in the past about the daycare where I go to work out. Usually when I take Avee and Danyo in the mornings while Bo is at preschool, it is without incident. Both of them are happy to do their own thing, they are pretty well-behaved, and the morning staff is a pretty mellow crowd.

Recently they've gotten a lot of new toys, handpicked by the childcare director. She doesn't really like the kids to play with these new toys. Because toys that get played with get broken. Bo quickly picked up on the oppressiveness of the daycare with all the new toys and he doesn't like going there on the rare occasions I take him.

It hasn't been a problem because bootcamp is right when he's at preschool. But I am trying to hurry up and undo to my body in 4 months what I've been doing to it for the last 5 years. (three children and innumerable pints of Phish Food) At best, it's an ugly, ugly situation. :) So, I went this morning and since Bo doesn't have preschool, he had to go with me.

I worked out. Gluts, lats, delts, and hams. All sufficiently worked over.

When I went to get the kids, I am greeted with some head shaking and some very important low-talking about what a "pistol" Bo is. I started to nod and agree, thinking that they were talking about Avee (because it's cute when girls are sassy) and was completely shocked when they said it was Bo. And they weren't happy about it.

Apparently they asked him a question, they didn't hear his answer a couple of times, asked again and he said "very disrespectfully", "I said I don't like it" or whatever it was he had to repeat. I guess this happened a couple of times. Then he got tired of the conversation, stuck his fist up in the air, made some declaration and then started pounding the table. I guess a few other kids sitting at the table joined in on the pounding.

May I remind the court, he is four. He's also a boy. While sticking your fist up in the air and saying something you think is funny (but isn't) and then pounding the table like a caveman is obnoxious and probably even annoying, it is not grounds for a convention on child behavior problems. I could also understand this being a problem if there were like 25 kids in there (to the 4 teachers). But there were 8 kids.

I'm completely biasing the jury. I'm sorry. It's my blog. I can't help it.

Tangent: When I was in college I remember learning about the different parenting styles. I remember reading about Authoritarian and Permissive and seeing the flaws in both, but thinking I might err on the side of Authoritarian. It's overly strict, demanding, high expectations, "you do what I say and ask no questions ever" kind of parenting. I thought I should be aware and try not to be that way. However, since becoming a parent, I've changed. And I worry that I err too much on the side of Permissive. This is almost constantly in the back of my mind. I do worry that I can't be objective when I need to be. If only they didn't have my red hair, or J's mannerisms---I could be a little more firm!

So, when I got an earful about how awful my kid is, I left the Y doing some serious self-evaluating. Nothing they told me, made me think my child needed a firm talking to.

Was I wrong?

I do believe quite strongly in children being respectful. I would definitely talk to Bo about being respectful. I talk to him almost every day about being respectful. Not because I think he's disrespectful but because I think it's very important to be respectful and polite. Is having to repeat yourself and getting annoyed with it--being disrespectful, or is it just being human? Of course he shouldn't pound on tables, but when did being a 4 year old boy become such a crime? There are so many unsafe, undesirable behaviors kids can have, I have sort of taken a "choose your battles" approach so that I'm not constantly harping on my kids. Believe me. Right now, Bo is rolling on the floor with his fingers in his nose and Avee has scaled a cupboard to retrieve a binky she isn't supposed to have. BELIEVE ME, I have bigger fish to fry with these two. :)

My friend, who's house Bo spends a considerable amount of time at, says she has never seen him act disrespectfully. His teachers have never said a thing to me. At church, I see him, he can be totally obnoxious sometimes, but he stops when he's told to stop. In my opinion, that's respectful. Kids who ignore adults---I seriously want to give them beat downs. But I don't. That's what separates me from the crazies.

I guess I'm putting this out there because I know that as a parent, I can be delusional about how my children behave. There are things I will tolerate, that other's won't. There are things that are absolutely not allowed in our home, that other's don't find a big deal. Just this morning Bo said, "M____ says stupid, she says it right in front of her mom and doesn't get in trouble. How come she's allowed to say it." I totally refrained from saying, "Because her mom is stupid" and said, "Everyone has different rules. In our house, we think that is an unkind word to say, so we don't say it." When my kids can learn to distinguish between what they don't like and what really is stupid---they'll be allowed to say it.

Do you think the report I got was worthy of discipline (I am asking opinions, not instruction---I have already dealt with this particular incident)? Does anyone have any tips on how to teach your children to handle stupid adults? Without using the word stupid, of course.

I think I have decided to not make Bo have to spend any time there. I don't want him being mistreated, and frankly, I think getting worked up over normal little boy behavior, leads to a high likelihood of mistreating said boy. But I still want to hear some thoughts and opinions on the matter. Or, on parenting in general. Or stupid people. Or you could just send me some chocolate. I'm flexible.

Question. Did I ramble on long enough for ya?

Tuesday Tidbits

This weekend I had the pleasure of toodling around town with Bo. Do any of you toodle? Is that a made-up word? Well, let me tell you---you're missing out if you don't toodle. I had such a great time with Bo. He is a delightful boy. And that's largely because I am his mother and find his idiosyncrasies charming and endearing. Not at all annoying, like the little girls who's necks he tries to lick may think.

Bo is an easy-going kid and easily gets kind of crowded into the background by his much more demanding and needy siblings. It is hard for me to not let him just chill out in the background. It's easier for me, but it's not fair to him. Running errands around town together reminded me just how delightful he can be. I love conversations with him. He has one frustrating habit that he came by completely honestly. He will "start" a conversation in his head and then "end" it out loud with me. I will have no idea what he's talking about, where he's coming from, what he's referring to. I'll have to ask 7 different ways for clarification and THEN we can have a coherent conversation. J has been known to blurt out, "Isn't that a great idea!?!" after long minutes of silence at the dinner table.

I know, hard to believe there's even a second of silence in this household, huh? I may have exaggerated how long it was quiet before he blurted that out.

After 2 hours of running around, Bo had had enough.

I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and said, "When it says six-thirty-three, we will be home." That was after I said, "We'll be home in five minutes" and he counted to five and said, "We aren't hoooooome yet!"

So, he started chanting the time, over and over. 6:28 then 6:29, and then came the devastating 6:30. It broke my heart. It took me a few seconds, well, about 34 to be exact, to realize how devastating it was.

My little baby doesn't say "sirty" anymore. He didn't even really say sirty, he'd say, "Sohty". It's all fading much too fast. He says "thowty". I have to be grateful for the marked absence of an R in that word, but I can't help but to mourn over the sudden appearance of the TH blend.

Please take a moment to mourn with me. My baby who will be 5 in exactly 1 month is losing his speech impediment. No one told me how hard this would be.

Nextly. I may need to remind you at this point that I am a mommy blogger. The dreaded mommy blogger. Because not only did I just type extensively about a 4 year old now pronouncing the TH sound, I am about to embark on an even more menial subject. You thought it wasn't possible. Let me show you....

The other day Avee announced that she is no longer 3. She didn't even last a whole month. When I asked her how old she is, I expected her to say 4--like Bo. Or 9, like her bff. Or any number that would make her the big girl most little girls want to be. She said two. And then she showed me with her little fingers, in case there was any misunderstanding on my part.

I found this completely hilarious with a side of adorable. I have asked her several times or let her overhear me saying she was 3. Just to get the response, "I don't want to be 3, I'm 2!"

Well, as any good mommy blogger does, I tried to capture the statement on camera. It was THERE that I learned WHY she doesn't want to be 3. It's brilliant, I tell you.




Lastly, a picture for my closest friends who just skim my blog for pictures. I cherish our friendship.

I loved how Danyo was just hanging out in the stroller.

She's Random Again

My 72 year old mother asked me today, "Have you seen the Youtube on So-and-so? Go Youtube his name, you'll see..."
I can honestly say, I NEVER thought I would live long enough to hear my mom use the word Youtube as a verb.


"I'm clear. Right? I'm declared clear as an _____ing bell." Actor Jas0n Be&he after leaving Scientology.
About 1 out of every 5 times Bo uses the bathroom he hollers out, or leaves singing, "I'm clear, I'm clear, I just peed clear!" He hasn't ever been declared clear as an _______ bell though. Maybe someday.


After having Avery come inside for her nap, the neighbor girl immediately knocked on the door to have her come back out. Exercising some serious self-restraint I kindly told Obnoxious Girl that Avee would be staying inside and not to ring the doorbell again the rest of the day. Or else. Avee came barreling toward the door (she had come inside without incident) yelling, "Wait! I hapta tell ho something! Wait!" So I held the door open, Avee steps outside and says,

"I broke this leg here and I broke this hand and I was like, WHAT!? And I jumped out of that tree and I was screaming and I lapfed and I threw my blanket like that and my leg was broken, it was."

It's like her own version of two truths and a lie. Only it's "one truth and some complete crazy talk".

Yesterday I heard Ben say while eating his lunch, to no one in particular, "Oh eight is going to be so great. I can't wait to be eight. I'm going to get baptized, get the Holy Ghost, AND a pogo stick."

He also told me, "If Caleb and I evoh get in an argue, I just say, 'Fine then, I'm not playing anymoh' and then he lets me do what I want to do." Before launching in to my typical lecture about what makes good friends and likable people, I thought to ask, "Does Caleb do the same thing to you?"

"Uh, yeah, I lowned it from him."

Well then, I think they have a great working relationship. The funny thing is, they are both really sharp kids (read: my son's a genius) and you would think neither of them would fall for the other's manipulations. But alas, they are best friends for a reason.

When I was in college a friend came over to my apartment one afternoon and said, "I need you to come with me down to the radio station right now." I was home during the day for two reasons. 1-I was a very lazy college student who preferred my bed to any ol' boring lecture hall and 2-I was kind of sick that day. I had a pretty beastly cold.

We went to the radio station. We walk inside. I'm thinking, this is pretty cool, I've never been inside a radio station before.

Suddenly she's shoving a script in my face and says, "Read girl #2!"

I was sick. I was unprepared. I was lame.

The dude recording us kept telling me to breathe through my nose when I spoke. I told him I was sick, I couldn't. Then he gave my friend a weird look. I was like, "Uhzackly." Who brings a sick chick to record a radio commercial?

What I learned: In order to not sound like a drugged up, deadbeat, unenthusiastic, meth-head, dork on the radio, one must speak VERY animatedly.

What my friend learned: In order to have a successful radio commercial, do not grab your drugged up, deadbeat, unenthusiastic, robitussin-head, dork friend at the last minute to do radio commercials.

Everytime I hear a radio commercial for the local carpet store or for Bob's Uncertified Used Cars, I'm reminded how THEY can do it. But I couldn't.

Actually, the commercial turned out great, I sounded fine, although not like myself. And I completely forgot about it until the other day when I heard a really bad radio commercial.

And this concludes this edition of RDAR.

The One Where Nobody Has a Heart Attack

Often when I am sitting at the computer, Bo or Avee will climb up on the chair and sit in the nonexistent space between me and the back of the chair. I have tried to fight it, it's not comfortable, but they both can't help themselves, so I've given up and let them.

This morning was no exception. I haven't had a chance to read blogs much lately, so I sat down this morning to indulge. Within a few minutes, Avee had scaled the chair and me, to finally settle in her favorite little spot.

I can feel her playing with my hair, but I was engrossed in stories of people flashing mall goers, broken arms, kids being chased by dumb dogs, getting called out for being a slacker, reading about tornados, etc, etc, etc.

Suddenly, Avee's little hand reaches around me into my line of sight, holding a large clump of my hair.

My heart did stop beating. For a millisecond I was dumbfounded. Speechless.

"I cut yo' hair mom! See! It's sooooo pretty!"

I started screaming. Not mad screaming, but I was in such shock and I was laughing and I COULD.NOT believe I had just sat there and let my THREE YEAR OLD cut a chunk of my hair. It was like 4 inches of hair! I keep grabbing the back of my hair, feeling for the bald spot.
I kept screaming too. It was, I'm sure, a very odd combination of hysterical screaming and hysterical laughing. Avee had scrambled off the chair to safety, but stayed close to watch the show. Bo came running from the other room to watch my tribal dance-scream.

I couldn't find a bald patch.

I kept looking at the chunk of hair. It's MY hair. How did this happen?! It's my hair. I look at Avee's head, her hair isn't thick enough to look like that and my hair is darker.

Still laughing, still yelling.

I look at the chunk of hair again.

How could this happen!?

Then I hear Avee say, "I cut the rubboh band opf too!"

I look on the floor and see the green rubberband that held together a braid of my hair, cut off when I was 16 or 17 years old. I had just eliminated a couple of bins of junk, and that braid was in it and has been floating around for a couple of days.

I do not have a bald spot.

I also no longer have a braid of15 year old hair.

Probably a good thing.

Soooooooo....

This might be TMI but I'll keep it as kosher as the subject allows. It still makes me laugh, so if it makes me laugh, I'm forced to post about it.

J and I started a new "eating plan" today. This was after a weekend of crazy indulgence in Mexican food and Mexican-like food. Just for simplicity's sake, if it has beans and onions and tomatos, it's Mexican-like.

Then today, we started our new, high fiber lifestyle.

After an hour of bootcamp, 34 oz of water in that hour, and a lovely snack of a crisp apple---I dropped Avee off at her friend's house, ran for a quick visit to a friend who's due with twins any day, and then headed off to get Bo from preschool and a quick trip to the grocery store.

10 minutes into the quick trip to the grocery store, the fiber bar and plum, 34 ozs of water, 1 hour of exercise, and large crisp apple all came a'knockin'.

Knock, knock they say.

I'm used to knock knocks. We are inundated with ridiculous knock knock jokes mealtime after mealtime after mealtime. I did what I do to most knock knocks, I ignore it.

KNOCK KNOCK, a little "louder".

Not now, I say. I'm right in the middle of getting some chicken thighs.

Suddenly, in the middle of deciding if I wanted chunk feta or crumbled feta, it was not a discussion, it was an emergency. I made my way to the restroom that is through the stock room. It's a small restroom with 2 stalls and a lock on the outer door. I push the entire cart in because Danyo is strapped in the front and Bo has to use the bathroom too. It's just easier than having to hold a squirmy kid in a bathroom.

Weeeeeeellllllll, this is where I stop giving TMI and tell you what makes me laugh.

Seconds after I get inside, someone knocks on the door. Well, it's locked. I'm pretty sure locked door is universal for "ain't gonna open til I'm done wid my bi'ness." Am I right?

So I figure, the person was just checking.

No. She was not. She was just beginning.

She knocks again, and Bo yells, "Come in!" Well, Bo is almost 5, but the boy sounds like he's 2 on the phone or through closed doors. He just has a young sounding voice. So, a person of average intelligence might be able to assess that an invitation from a "two-year-old" isn't really all that valid. I called out more loudly, "Just a minute please!" I had made Bo wait to use the bathroom so that one of us could keep an eye on Danyo.

Quickly, I begin helping Bo because when I help, we avoid the full on, practical licking of the stall doors that seems to happen when I leave my children to their own devices in dirty, germy, places.

She bangs on the door.

I call out, "almost done!"

I have been in the bathroom a total of maybe 90 seconds.

Bo's quick. Thinking there might be an emergency, I open the door as we are washing our hands. There's really no room for another person to fit in, but since she's already knocked 3-4 times, despite my pleasant, through-the-door communication, I figured she would do what she had to do.

I open the door with one hand, dry my hands on my pants and quickly grab the cart to maneuver it out the door.

She glares at me.

I smiled sort of apologetically.

She snarls.

As I'm pushing the cart and pulling on Bo, she growls, "ExCUSE you!"

It totally made me laugh.

I'm thinking that today, just a leeeeeeetle more than her bowel was irritable.

You Can Take That Magic Word And....

I've only wanted to write griping posts. Yeah, that's griping not gripping. So unlike me, right? But it's griping about nothing. Things like how grapefruits have a pretty long shelf life and I still manage to let them go bad. Or like how it drives me insane to change diapers on a 3 year old but I know just letting go and letting her dictate when she's ready is most effective in potty training. Or like how "no" means "maybe" to some people.
They are all so dumb and nobody except Nobody needs to be subjected to such gripey thoughts.

I've changed my mind Internets.

Today I bring you a pet peeve that has recently surfaced or I have had for a long time and finally feel confident enough to share with the world. Just kidding about that last part. As if I've ever been too insecure to rip on someone/something.

"Say the magic word!"

No. I don't make my children say "magic words" and I sure as heck get annoyed when you ask them to. First of all, IF, and that's a big if, see <----- it's in all caps, you think it is important for them to say "please" for something---ask them to. They understand basic manners. They have been taught. But we didn't teach them that it was magic, because it's not. We taught them that is was common courtesy, basic manners. Most of the time they remember to say please and thank you. I hope it becomes second nature for them. But, since they are young children, they forget. As young children are wont to do.

Yesterday at the Y Avee got markers snatched out of her hands because she's not "big enough" to use them. That is pretty much all she will color with, and she's quite the prolific color-er. After feeling totally devastated and taking some time to work through this, she went to soothe herself on "The Goofy Movie". A movie she has seen about 50 times in the last year and a half. I think she has a crush on Max.

I had gone into the bathroom and when I came out, Avee ran up to me with tears streaming down her face (she tries very hard to be "brave" in public and was already pretty embarrassed by her meltdown with the markers) and she was whispering whatever was wrong. I couldn't understand her so I looked around to see what could have happened. The teacher was standing by the tv with The Goofy Movie in her hands and says, "I told her to say the magic word." Avee doesn't know what the crap "the magic word" is. It really bugged me. Did my daughter have to be upset again because she didn't say please?

I wanted to say, "Did you say the #$%* magic word when you snatched those markers out of her hands?" But instead I said, "She has no idea what you are talking about, if you really think she needs to say please, just ask her to say please. She will."

The other day I saw an older child holding one of Bo's toys over his head, just out of his reach, demanding that he say the magic word before he could get it back.

You can believe I gave that child an earful. I can remember when I was little, older kids pulling that junk on me. Sticking out a leg to keep you from passing, insisting you say the magic word. Totally random and ridiculous. Those kids annoyed me when I was little, and I have only a little more tolerance for those kids today. The only problem is, they are learning it from the adults in their lives, so I guess I hold them a little less accountable for their obnoxiousness.

I guess mostly it frustrates me because it's not ever really about teaching a child to be polite, it's more about proving to the child that you have control over them. And that makes me mad.

A Man Never Trifles With a Gal With a Rifle

Don't you hate conversations like this:

Hi Nobody!
Oh hi! I haven't seen you in while! How are you?
Doin' fine, we all just got over being sick so now we can come back to the Y.
Oh I know what you mean, it's awful how long it takes for the whole family to get healthy, isn't it?
Yeah. Did you get your hair cut?
Yes I did!
It looks shorter.
Oh thaaaaaaanks.

Both thinking, "uhhhhhh that wasn't a compliment why did I/she say thank you?"
I do not know.

Well, I gotta run!
Okay, thank you!

Just kidding. I didn't say thank you twice. But dang, why did I even say it the first time?
Immediately after this conversation I went and stood in front of a couple of doors and waited for them to open.

For about 15 seconds.

They were not automatic.

RDAR

Recommended Daily Allowance of Random
By, Nobody

Recent Conversations:
(In the van on Sunday)
Avee: Oak-Don-Odes! I wanna goooooooo!
Mom: No, we don't go to McDonald's on Sunday.
Bo: Burgoh King!?

Bo:Your stomach is squishy right here.
Mom: No it's not, it's flat as a pancake.
Bo: No, it's not flat, it's fat. But here, if I push it in like this, it's flat.
Mom: That's not fat, that's what is called a supermodel. Say it, say supermodel.
Bo: (Still poking me) Supoh-model.
Mom: So see, next time someone says, "What does your mom look like?" You can say, "She looks like a supermodel."
Bo: Okay.

20 minutes later
Mom: Bo, what does your mom look like?
Bo: (Blank stare)
Mom: Suuuuuuuuuuuu
Bo: (More blank)
Mom: peeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr...
Bo: HAPPY GOHL!!!! You look like Supoh Happy Gohl!!!

She is a redhead, isn't she?

Since we are on the subject of my size and my children's perception of it:
Just now I went to follow Danyo up the stairs. He climbs up the first half of steps and then plays on the landing. I went to go retrieve him and he thinks it's a game and starts screeching and scrambling up the stairs, which totally negates any effort in trying to keep him safe. I may as well ignore him and let him sit there safely.

So, I was laying up the first set of stairs with my feet at the bottom and my head at the top, talking to Danyo. We were having a grand ol' time, minding our own business and Avee came up and said, "He's really likes that game mom. B'cuz you look like a mountain sliding."

Rude kids.

Imaginary Play and Singing:
Avee frequently is playing/having conversations with various cartoon characters. I've heard her talking to Caillou, Max, Nemo, Dora, and Patrick on different days. Lately it has been Nemo and SpongeBob. Yesterday she was changing her clothes and she turned sharply and said, to the air, "Stop it! I don't have a shirt on!" If she sees me smile at all, she won't confide in me. So I very seriously ask her, "Who is it?" She smiles sheepishly because she does know it's imaginary and says, "Nemo and he won't leave me alone even though I'm naked."

J's car died a couple of weeks ago. It's such a pain having to buy a new car. The other day I picked up J from work and we were going to go look at cars. I had made arrangements to drop off Avee at a friend's house, but as we were driving, she seemed really content being toted around. So I said, "Do you want to go with me and Dad to look for a new car, or do you want me to take you to Sarah's house?" She immediately answered that she wanted to go to Saywuh's house and then I hear her talking lowly, "Do you want to go to Saywuh's house Spushbob? She's really nice." When we got to Saywuh's, Avee was overcome with excitement to be with real people and totally ditched SpongeBob. She scrambled out of her car seat, jumped out of the van and just before she darted off, she turned back to us with her same sheepish smile and said, "SpushBob can stay with you!" and then took off to sing, "Beeeeesssssst daaaaaaaaaay Ehhhhhhhvoh!" at the top of her lungs.
(sorry for the dark footage, she was supposed to be taking a nap)

This morning I heard her introducing "someone" to the refrigerator. At least she's polite to them!

Next item on the agenda,
Where I kind of make fun of people:

A couple of weeks ago when my friends were coming to visit, I was trying to think of a place to take them to eat that was unique to this area. Not so easy to do. I had one place in mind, but J was trying to get me to think outside the box. 'Cept, the one thing outside of J's restaurant box is Pho. And I know Pho. And I know with whom it won't go. So, the conversation of where to take them kind of carried over to the Y, when I was working one night. J had come to pick up the kids, so he was there and he was throwing out different ideas. I was trying to get people around me to brainstorm and I was whining, "I want some place that's new, different, good!"

At which point we hear my coworker say, "Have you ever been to Denny's?"

I whipped around to look at her face to see if it was a joke.

It was not. She was 100% serious. J says he was sure my kidney was going to burst out of my back. I knew there was so much potential to laugh until I wet my pants. But I couldn't. And didn't. If ever you've seen a picture of self-control, it was me, on that night.

The End.