Sunday, November 23, 2008

Now the zit is hiding in the folds of her clothing.

Emily had a shiny red rhinestone star stuck to the tip of your nose. "Oh, Emily," I sighed. "You've got a zit on your nose again."

Sam responded in the norm. "We'd better cut it off."

I, in vague response (because I was staring at a daddy blog). "If that happened every time we had a zit on our noses... well, I guess it'd just have been that one time each."

Emily looked back and forth between us, one eyebrow raised. "So... why do you still have noses?"

Saturday, November 22, 2008

This type of crap is an everyday occurrence.

Deep growly voice, chanting: Eat a tur-key-LEG! Eat a tur-key-LEG! Eat a tur-key-LEG! Eat a tur-key-LEG!
Connor, stalking after Emily. I don't know why. But it's stuck on repeat in your head now, too. You're welcome.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Doesn't Matter That She Made Up the Name. Get It Right.

Emily and Ethan are playing, Emily holding her stuffed monkey Ookie (oo-key).

Ethan: Hi, Oakie!

Emily: I'm OOOHkie!

Ethan (because that kid's quick on his feet): I'm British!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

It's Called a Play on Words

From Connor in the back seat of the car, reading a sign on a store: Make your own sundae... If I could make my own Sunday, it'd be longer than any other day of the week.

From Connor when we get home: Help! I can't get out! *banging on inside of his own door* It won't open! Getting out after I have ignored him and gotten out myself, he finishes: You'd be a lot more fun if you were gullible.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

My kid can kick your kid's ass.

Television news anchor quoting someone online: always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices...

Connor: Except the electoral college.

They Mark That Hundred Feet for a Reason

I was shocked by the utter disappointment I received from the kids when I announced last night that I was going to go vote after I dropped them at the bus.

"But you always take us!"

Dang. Okay. My cup runneth over with pride. Or something.

We arrive at the polling place, and there's no line. Be jealous. Of course, the genius behind the desk, after Sam spelled out the first three letters of our last name three times, declared that we were not listed. So I went ahead and flipped to the next page for her and pointed out our names. That little code at the bottom of the page, the one that shows "BRA-BRI", that can be confusing. I mean, shouldn't a "BRO" name fit in there?

So no line and two booths for our district meant that Sam and I got to vote at the same time. Connor went in with Sam, and Emily and Ethan with me.

"Okay, so this first thing is a referendum. It's kinda long, so I'll explain it to you in the car. We're voting 'yes'. That X? It shows me that I chose that one. Flipping this little thing reveals the X. The rest of these, the top shows what we're voting for, and then the choices are lined up underneath. This is for state congress, and this one (blah blah blah, this crap is even boring me, so skipping ahead) ...Now this very first one? That's for president. See? Obama, McCain, McCain, McCain, Obama, Obama, then a few other people that are running."

Emily and Ethan, in stereo and loud, "Barack Obama!"

Holy crap, we're going to get arrested.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Also? I Hate the Word "Panties".

I decided to try something new for dinner, so I took a big girl pill (or, as my sister says, pulled on some big girl panties), and tried a recipe that I found online (on a site that looks totally reputable, and also funny). The big girl pill was not trying a new recipe, but trying a recipe that leaves my comfort zone of cayenne, cumin, and smoked paprika, and into the land of warm fruity main dishes. In fact, this site called in a "bowl full of fall".

Okay, I tried. I really did. I'm sure someone (lots of someones) somewhere (lots of somewheres) would like it. None of those people live in my house. In my house, it was a bowl full of disaster. The level of food-fiasco was directly proportional to the amount of it left in the bowl. And it was made perfectly. I am just not a fruity-sweety-main-dish kinda girl. Apparently neither are the rest of them. (Especially not the boys, I guess. They're not even fruity-sweety-main-dish kinda boys.)

So now my beloved Alton wants me to eat the healthy snack alternative, edamame. And I want me to eat the healthy snack alternative. What's more, I want to introduce my kids to the healthy snack alternative. After all, if you teach them to like something when they're young, they don't have to overcome that hurtle when they're older and less flexy in their likes and dislikes. But, damn, I just can't seem to find those big girl panties anywhere.