This post is dedicated to The Bloggess- who is insane, but only in a way that makes me worry for her, not for me or my children. If you've never read her stuff, you must, if for no other reason than that this post will make no sense to you. She makes up words, fights with her husband, and very occasionally offends a major religion in her blog, and I swear I am talking about someone other than me.
Anyway, her bit that actually applies to this post is here, and it's from a while ago, but, damn y'all, I can't plan life. It just happens this way.
My kick-ass niece Bailey, who just turned 12- happy birthday, Bailey!- inherited from her mother the ability to rock a crane machine. I think she's kinda addicted to them (she got a mini one for her birthday, and that's the one thing she shared with me when I called her), but that's okay- we're talking quarters here, not dime bags of illicit drugs.
When we were last visiting her house, she told us how she had scored a Wolverine toy (boys hate it when you call their play-things "dolls", even if it is a friggin' doll), but not just one Wolverine. Girl had managed to get three of those suckers all at once! I told you, she can rock a crane machine. This is how Ethan ended up with two of his very own- those and a Batman. Kick-ass and generous, she is.
So we're cruising the parking lot of the soccer fields (yes, I'm there all the effing time- I am aware of this, shut up) and the kids are playing/bickering in the backseat and repeatedly I hear references to "wolverines" (Ethan's choice for entertainment during Connor's game that night) and The Bloggess just suddenly pops into my head and I let out a cry of "Wolverines!!" and all three of my kids, with no pause, simultaneously respond "Wolverines!!" and that is why I not only have a kick-ass niece, but three kick-ass kids, as well.