At home-
E: "I burped, excuse me."
[Mom is doing a crossword, and is only listening with half an ear]
E: "I'm excused."
[Mom smiles absentmindedly, continues trying to figure out 26-Across]
E (very aggrieved): "MOM! I had to excuse MYSELF!"
In the car-
E: "Mom, can Poppa sit next to me?"
Mom: "Babe, our car's still small and he won't have enough room for his legs in the back."
E: "Well, when will our car grow up?"
My slightly-insane life and times
7/20/07
Last-Minute Needs...
So, I made one of those "I need one thing at Wal-Mart" trips this evening. For literally, one thing. That I absolutely HAD TO HAVE right then. And then, naturally, it became like 10 things. Because once I was there, I was like, "Oh, yeah, that's right, I forgot that I promised I'd get E this..." Never fails.
[Incidentally, "Achy Breaky Heart" is playing overhead at Kettle, my hometown's only "Internet Cafe"...I am sad to discover that that song did not die as it should have, in the 90s...]
But my point is, you know how all supermarkets and stores of similar ilk have their checkout aisles so nicely set up with all the things that a busy mom/normal person is likely to forget otherwise? Like Kleenex and chapstick and batteries and soap and God only knows what else? And naturally, all those dinky little toys that your kids just HAVE to have, and all your own favorite candy and fluff magazines, so then if Mommy gets a present, then E has to have one...It's quite sneaky of them.
I rarely wait until I'm actually in the checkout line to realize that I've forgotten something... (Usually I'm merrily walking along, pushing my cart, and then suddenly remember and halt, and cause a traffic jam that just ripples across the store...)...so I don't usually utilize the mini-convenience store that is a Wal-Mart checkout line.
However, this time, I happened to do just that. Right up until we walked into the line, I had forgotten that I had told E I'd buy him some chapstick "of his very own". And luckily for me, they had the usual selection of like 10 different types just waiting for me.
While I was carefully perusing the labels (God forbid I should pick something too girly or too minty or too "spicy"), I happened to notice something peculiar among the humdrum items: several bottles of K*Y Touch Mass@ge Oil.
Honestly, are there that many people twiddling their thumbs in line at supermarkets who suddenly think: "Damn, I forgot my m@ssage oil!!!"
Wal-Mart seems to think so.
Personally, I'd think co#doms would be higher up on my list of "Things People Forget to Purchase That They're Really Gonna Regret Forgetting." But whatever.
[Also, I'm bleeping things so I don't get spammed. Because this is a family forum...Ha, right.]
[Incidentally, "Achy Breaky Heart" is playing overhead at Kettle, my hometown's only "Internet Cafe"...I am sad to discover that that song did not die as it should have, in the 90s...]
But my point is, you know how all supermarkets and stores of similar ilk have their checkout aisles so nicely set up with all the things that a busy mom/normal person is likely to forget otherwise? Like Kleenex and chapstick and batteries and soap and God only knows what else? And naturally, all those dinky little toys that your kids just HAVE to have, and all your own favorite candy and fluff magazines, so then if Mommy gets a present, then E has to have one...It's quite sneaky of them.
I rarely wait until I'm actually in the checkout line to realize that I've forgotten something... (Usually I'm merrily walking along, pushing my cart, and then suddenly remember and halt, and cause a traffic jam that just ripples across the store...)...so I don't usually utilize the mini-convenience store that is a Wal-Mart checkout line.
However, this time, I happened to do just that. Right up until we walked into the line, I had forgotten that I had told E I'd buy him some chapstick "of his very own". And luckily for me, they had the usual selection of like 10 different types just waiting for me.
While I was carefully perusing the labels (God forbid I should pick something too girly or too minty or too "spicy"), I happened to notice something peculiar among the humdrum items: several bottles of K*Y Touch Mass@ge Oil.
Honestly, are there that many people twiddling their thumbs in line at supermarkets who suddenly think: "Damn, I forgot my m@ssage oil!!!"
Wal-Mart seems to think so.
Personally, I'd think co#doms would be higher up on my list of "Things People Forget to Purchase That They're Really Gonna Regret Forgetting." But whatever.
[Also, I'm bleeping things so I don't get spammed. Because this is a family forum...Ha, right.]
7/17/07
Can You Tell It's New?
E, to my mom, as she climbed into my car: "Don't touch ANYTHING in my mom's car."
E, to my brother, as he climbed into the driver's seat: "You have got to BE CAREFUL in my mom's car."
E, to my brother, as he climbed into the driver's seat: "You have got to BE CAREFUL in my mom's car."
7/12/07
Boys Just Wanna Have Fun
Recent exchange with E...
Me: Hey, E, we're gonna get a new car soon. Does that sound like a good idea?
E: [Dawning hope in eyes, accompanied by several Hummer-shaped stars...]
Me: But it's NOT going to be a Hummer.
E: [Pouting]
Exchange with E after buying said new car...
Me: Do you like the car, even though it's not a Hummer?
E: Yes. But we're going to call it a Transformer.
Me: Hey, E, we're gonna get a new car soon. Does that sound like a good idea?
E: [Dawning hope in eyes, accompanied by several Hummer-shaped stars...]
Me: But it's NOT going to be a Hummer.
E: [Pouting]
Exchange with E after buying said new car...
Me: Do you like the car, even though it's not a Hummer?
E: Yes. But we're going to call it a Transformer.
7/3/07
Happenings
We had a blast in the Twin Cities, visiting the fam.
We just happened to go to the Mall of America, while we were there.
We just happened to buy all-day ride passes at the (former?) Camp Snoopy. That was a BIG DEAL for us. Usually, as kids, my sibs and I were limited to 3 rides each, unless one of my uncles was feeling generous and bought us passes. I think my parents were feeling generous this time because E was back among us. (Like a fungus.) Not that they bought the passes, that would have been asking a bit much. But they bought one for my brother, so that I got to ride all the kiddie rides with E and all the grown-up rides with David.
Speaking of "E", my new favorite thing is to call him "Tiny Dancer", because of:
A: his habit of dancing
B: his genetic fate of rather stunted stature (ha, not really, he's not that short, just short...)
C: my love of Elton John and a certain song that I used to think had lyrics involving "head lice".
PS: if you don't know why I thought it was a song about head lice, I'm not going to talk to you any more, because you're obviously not an Elton John fan.
So I'm seriously considering switching my son's "E" pseudonym to "Tiny Dancer" or perhaps just "T.D.", to preserve the rather feminine anonymity of his nickname...I'll let you know what I decide...
Anyway, after we'd all ridden ourselves silly on the amusement park rides, we happened to find ourselves in Lego Land. They have a rather fascinating play area with piles and piles of Legos in huge bins, and a racing ramp, so you can make and race your own Lego Cars. Brilliant.
E, of course, dug right in, oblivious to the nearby family argument going on about where the 20 members of the extended gene pool were going to meet for dinner, and how we were all going to get there. After about 15-20 minutes of planning and negotiating, we finally decided on a destination. E, my brother, and I were ordered to hitch a ride to the restaurant with my Nana & Papa (you see, organizing a family reunion is kind of like organizing troops. The general doesn't take disobedience well, because that could lead to someone dying...).
Well, in my distracted folly, I didn't realize that E, of course, hadn't been privy to our discussion, and all of a sudden, we had to race for the restaurant to make it by the agreed time. So he got no "you have 5 minutes to play" warning. Instead, I told him we had to go, picked him up bodily, took his Lego car away and left it in a nearby collection bin, and walked out of the area.
BAD IDEA.
The mall exit was, predictably, as far away from Lego Land as we could possibly have gotten. He kicked and screamed for the entire walk. He's a pretty strong little kiddo, and at one point, I had to deliver him to my brother, who is considerably stronger than I, to manhandle through the building.
I was extraordinarily embarrassed, because no parent wants to have to make the Mother's Walk of Shame for more than a few feet, much less make that walk in front of one's own grandparents! My mom was one of seven kids, and I have a dozen or so cousins, so it's not as if they're unused to screaming children, but still!
But all my Nana said was a mild: "I hope no one thinks we're kidnapping him..."
At which point, my traitorous and unmotherly inner self happened to think: "If a security guard came up right now and questioned me, I would say 'You are absolutely right, you should find this child's real mother.'"
We just happened to go to the Mall of America, while we were there.
We just happened to buy all-day ride passes at the (former?) Camp Snoopy. That was a BIG DEAL for us. Usually, as kids, my sibs and I were limited to 3 rides each, unless one of my uncles was feeling generous and bought us passes. I think my parents were feeling generous this time because E was back among us. (Like a fungus.) Not that they bought the passes, that would have been asking a bit much. But they bought one for my brother, so that I got to ride all the kiddie rides with E and all the grown-up rides with David.
Speaking of "E", my new favorite thing is to call him "Tiny Dancer", because of:
A: his habit of dancing
B: his genetic fate of rather stunted stature (ha, not really, he's not that short, just short...)
C: my love of Elton John and a certain song that I used to think had lyrics involving "head lice".
PS: if you don't know why I thought it was a song about head lice, I'm not going to talk to you any more, because you're obviously not an Elton John fan.
So I'm seriously considering switching my son's "E" pseudonym to "Tiny Dancer" or perhaps just "T.D.", to preserve the rather feminine anonymity of his nickname...I'll let you know what I decide...
Anyway, after we'd all ridden ourselves silly on the amusement park rides, we happened to find ourselves in Lego Land. They have a rather fascinating play area with piles and piles of Legos in huge bins, and a racing ramp, so you can make and race your own Lego Cars. Brilliant.
E, of course, dug right in, oblivious to the nearby family argument going on about where the 20 members of the extended gene pool were going to meet for dinner, and how we were all going to get there. After about 15-20 minutes of planning and negotiating, we finally decided on a destination. E, my brother, and I were ordered to hitch a ride to the restaurant with my Nana & Papa (you see, organizing a family reunion is kind of like organizing troops. The general doesn't take disobedience well, because that could lead to someone dying...).
Well, in my distracted folly, I didn't realize that E, of course, hadn't been privy to our discussion, and all of a sudden, we had to race for the restaurant to make it by the agreed time. So he got no "you have 5 minutes to play" warning. Instead, I told him we had to go, picked him up bodily, took his Lego car away and left it in a nearby collection bin, and walked out of the area.
BAD IDEA.
The mall exit was, predictably, as far away from Lego Land as we could possibly have gotten. He kicked and screamed for the entire walk. He's a pretty strong little kiddo, and at one point, I had to deliver him to my brother, who is considerably stronger than I, to manhandle through the building.
I was extraordinarily embarrassed, because no parent wants to have to make the Mother's Walk of Shame for more than a few feet, much less make that walk in front of one's own grandparents! My mom was one of seven kids, and I have a dozen or so cousins, so it's not as if they're unused to screaming children, but still!
But all my Nana said was a mild: "I hope no one thinks we're kidnapping him..."
At which point, my traitorous and unmotherly inner self happened to think: "If a security guard came up right now and questioned me, I would say 'You are absolutely right, you should find this child's real mother.'"
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