Egg Sucker

Before dinner each night my daughter and I put on some music and proceed to sing and dance in the living room like crazy teenagers. Last night my child got angry with me over my choice of music for the evening. She, of course, wanted to hear Miley Cyrus (for the gazillionth evening in a row). I decided that we were going to listen to the Barenaked Ladies. She moaned and groaned and sat on the couch throwing out snarky comments such as, “I can’t even understand the words, how am I supposed to dance to this?”, “Umm, this music doesn’t make any sense”. I explained that she gets to choose the music night after night and it would be nice if we could listen to something different for a change. She wasn’t having it and stormed up to her room.

She came down for dinner and we didn’t speak of her little tirade the rest of the evening…and I, actually, never gave it another thought. That is, until this morning when I awoke, walked past her bedroom to find this written on the dry erase board that hangs on her door:

I snickered to myself (knowing full well it was directed at me) but didn’t make any mention of it to her – as this would only fuel her fire and she’d get exactly what she wanted – a rise out of me.

I then proceed to ready myself for the day and as I’m in the bathroom grabbing a tampon (sorry guys, the following may be a bit too graphic for you) I reach into the box to find this:

Oh goody, an egg! At this point I know exactly what I’m in for so, giggling, I open it to find this:

Mmmmm…fire balls (my favorite) plus this lovely hand written note. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. Then I thought to myself, “Should I be laughing or should I be heading straight for her with my ‘you’re in big trouble’ look?” I hear her coming up the stairs toward the bathroom so I quickly put everything back as if I’d not found it yet. She coyly peeks in the bathroom to see her handiwork undisturbed. So, now my job is to try and outwit the little shyster – to come up with the best punishment to fit the crime. Hmmm…I wonder how she feels about sucking an egg?

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E’s Elucidations – Drink Brass Monkey, Here’s How You Feel

Dearest Blogospherians, please accept my sincerest apologies for taking so long in getting another installment of E’s Elucidations together. With some gentle prodding and excellent topic suggestions from the lovely Rachel over at Whostheboss, I got my ass in gear and am happy to present my child’s take on drinking and alcohol:

WHY DO YOU THINK ADULTS DRINK ALCOHOL?

E: Um, hmm… probably because they think it tastes good so it gets really addicting to drink.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ALCOHOL TASTES LIKE?

E: I’m not sure.

HOW DO YOU THINK ALCOHOL MAKES YOU FEEL?

E: Calm and relaxed because when people drink alcohol they are always sitting back and relaxing.

WHAT DOES GETTING DRUNK MEAN?

E: When you drink a lot of alcohol and then it makes you crazy.

HOW MANY DRINKS DO YOU THINK IT TAKES TO GET DRUNK?

E: Five or ten.

SHOULD YOU DRINK AND DRIVE?

E: No, because you might get in a car accident because you’re crazy and drunk.

WHY AREN’T KIDS ALLOWED TO HAVE ALCOHOL?

E: Because it’s bad for them. Their parents probably don’t want them to get drunk because they’ll get crazy and swear.

WHAT SHOULD YOU DO IF SOMEONE OFFERS YOU ALCOHOL?

E: Say “no” and run away.

IS BEER WORSE THAN WINE?

E: Yes, because wine is made from grapes so it’s healthier and beer is mostly alcohol – that’s what I’m guessing.

WHAT IS A HANGOVER?

E: I have no clue.

Hope you enjoyed that! Now, I’m going to go grab myself five (or ten) beers and relax!

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Bitch, bitch, bitch

Today the dog was barking frantically…no big surprise since this is a frequent occurance. My daughter looked at me and said, “I know what he’s saying.” “Really?”, I replied. “Yes”, she said, “He’s saying, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch!”

I gave her my “you’re in big trouble look” and she said, “WHAT? Bitch is just a female dog.”

Damn, she’s good – she’s already outfoxing her dear, old Mom.

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Sticker Shock

While at the mall the other evening my child and I decided to take a look-see at some of the new vehicles that were being displayed throughout the concourse. Lovely, lovely, shiny new vehicles.

Since last week’s catalytic converter issue and proceeding emptying of my wallet, I have been thinking about getting a new vehicle. I am particularly fond of Volkswagon Passat Wagons (yep, a wagon – because I’ve got to make room for the dog boys, don’tcha know). Ever since I read Allison’s post about her Volkswagon and it’s purple dashlights I’ve been convinced that I must have one.

Lo and behold, as we were walking around the concourse my eyes focused on a spectacular site – a luscious green VW Passat Wagon. We strolled over, eyeing it lovingly. We stood in front of it for several moments oooing and ahhing. I got in and sat, and admired, and sat a bit longer. My daughter said, “Oh, can we get it? Pleeeease?” It was brand new so I knew there was no way in hell I could afford it so I said to her, “Probably not this one, but something similar”. And then it happened. The salesman spied us and swooped in for the kill (or so I thought). But no, this was no ordinary salesman because he opened his mouth and this is what came out: “Wishful thinking, huh?” My jaw dropped. I couldn’t speak. Why on earth would anyone say such a thing? Especially a salesman! I figured it was best that I not engage him any further as I didn’t want my child to witness her mother sputtering profanities in the middle of the mall. She saw “the look” in my eye and she gets frightened when momma starts to get enraged, so I glared at him as I grabbed my daughter’s arm and stormed away.

Of course, his remark got the child thinking and the conversation went something like this:

Child: “Mom, what did he mean, ‘wishful thinking’?”

Mom: “Well, honey, it appears that the gentleman had ESP and he could tell that I don’t have enough money to buy that particular car so he thought he’d be a smartass and tell me something I already knew.”

Child: “Huh, he’s an imbecile and…and a jackass.”

From now on I’m just going to let her handle situations such as these. I think the shock value from hearing a 9 yr. old utter those words would have been far more priceless than any comeback I would have hurled his way.

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Tooth Fairy Interrogation

My daughter is 9 years old, in 4th Grade and still believes in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. It’s great that she still believes. I think I was in 3rd Grade when I realized that they weren’t real. She’s very headstrong (hmmm, wonder where she gets that from?) and even when the kids at school tease her about her Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy beliefs and tell her they aren’t real, she stands her ground and defends them. Maybe it’s because her mother has always given into her clever little note writing schemes she comes up with prior to the visitation from one of these make-believe characters.

From the time she could write she has always insisted on leaving notes for Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Now, these notes are not just cute, elementary pleasantries. Oh no, these notes are downright interrogations. Some are worse than others. The Tooth Fairy usually gets a full-on questionnaire, while Santa’s note is a bit more laid back. Here is an example (this is from last night, and she commenced with an introductory note, which is not typical):

Hahaha – “your fairy loving friend” – I love that part! She’s just trying to sweeten up the Tooth Fairy so she’ll answer the grueling questions that she’s left for her. I tried to tell her that the Tooth Fairy is so tiny that she probably can’t write. She didn’t go for that. She says, “Come on, she’s magic, she can fly and take kid’s teeth so she has to be able to write.” Here are the questions submitted for the dear little Tooth Fairy:

Luckily, my child sleeps like a rock because now not only do I have to swipe her tooth from under her pillow, but also this note – plus, I have to carefully sneak the fully answered note back under her pillow. And wouldn’t you know it, tonight she woke up when I was grabbing it. She was pretty much in a sleep stupor but still asked, “What are you doing?”. I replied, “Trying to get Percy (her cat) out of your room so the Tooth Fairy isn’t frightened.” Then boom…back to sleep she went. Phew! So, now I get to practice my teeny tiny writing skills. Oh, and let’s not forget the glitter. I can’t remember how that all came about. I guess she figured fairies have their share of fairy dust a.k.a. glitter…and this time she wants it all over her pillow? Um, no…not gonna happen kiddo. The Tooth Fairy checked the “no” box, but did leave a little glitter on the note – cuz she’s sweet like that.

Apparently, my daughter doesn’t believe that the Tooth Fairy’s real name is “Tooth Fairy”. She asks that question every time she leaves her a note and the Tooth Fairy’s answer is always the same – “Tooth Fairy”. I suppose one of these days she’ll give out her real name. I’m thinking “Tiny Flossy” is her real name.

The bottom part of the note was cut off by my scanner but she left a section for “Notes” – so the TF jotted a quick note asking my daughter to please make sure the cat is out of her room when leaving a tooth because he frightens her. Ha! See, I told you so, honey.

I know ya’ll are going to ask, so yes, the TF listed her fairy friends/friends (Santa, Easter Bunny, Leprechauns, Gnomes, Elves, Good Girls & Boys); and, of course, she drew a picture of herself (honestly, she’s so tiny she looks just like a squashed flea).

It is fun to keep playing along with her whims but I wonder how long it will take for her to catch on? Maybe not until she’s sixteen since Mom is so stellar at playing make believe!

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