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Monday, February 21, 2011

Presidents' Day

I got the kids up at 7:00 this morning on a holiday to do chores. Secretly, they were really grateful, I'm sure.

Conversations that ensued:

5yo: It's seven hundred. Should I wake up the girls?
Me: Yes, please.
5yo: They usually get up when I yell "BOO!"
5yo: *Goes and yells "BOO!" at the 12yo and 15yo*
5yo: Um, they jus' ugnored me.

7yo: My eyes hurt really bad.
Me: If you have pinkeye, I'm quitting my job.
12yo: What job?
Me: MOTHERHOOD.
7yo: *throws up*
12yo: Please don't quit, Mom!

15yo, playing out of the Children's Songbook: The Prophet said to plant a garden?
Me: Well, yes.
15yo: When?

Me, while cleaning the bedroom, to Mr. B: You know, if you're going to scatter your clothing about like you're succumbing to a moment of passion, I think I ought to be benefiting somehow.
Previously unobserved 15yo: Uh . . . is it bad that I totally understood that?


This picture just makes me laugh. The kids were watching the baby stretch and kick, and more than one of them thought it was creepy.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Making Mr. Rogers Proud

When we moved into our current home five years ago, one of our new neighbors warned us gently about the guy across the street: He didn't care for cats (not a problem) or kids (maybe a problem). We noticed right quick that he didn't care much for a friendly "hello" either. But we've acquired no cats, kept the kids out of his yard and avoided subjecting him to neighborly chit-chat, and in return, we've had no complaints from him. Good enough!

He can't be that bad, because he did take the time to come over shortly after we moved in, and let us know that our perpetually flooded driveway did indeed have a drain, and he pointed out where he thought it was. I thanked him happily, and I intended to thank him again with a plate of goodies, but never got around to it, of course. Until Monday morning, it was the only time I had conversed with him in five years.

He DID report us to the police once, but so did pa-lenty of other households within a one-mile radius. (No exaggeration. Turns out illegal fireworks can be mistaken for gunfire or worse. Who knew?) Anyway, we suspect he was one of the ones who called, because he was watching from across the street as the police came to the door, which was thrown open by six ecstatic children (and one mother with a camera) expecting to see Santa Claus.

(Bless Santa's heart, he had arrived at the same time as the police, and was waiting around the corner for the dust to settle. Except when he did finally come to the door, the children refused to answer it. Go figure.)

SO just Monday morning, I happened to be taking kids to school right when he & his dog were outside, and the dog came barreling across the street towards us, barking and growling. The poor man had no choice but to come collect his dog. I figured I'd better say something, which ended up being:

"So, is this a new dog?" (Because I really couldn't remember ever seeing it before.)

And he replied, "No, I've had him for six years."

I think that's a conversation that'll hold us for another five years, don't you?