I've been really lax on this column lately. I've been in a bit of a fog (see previous post for details). And I'm not totally convinced that anyone really misses my writing, so I currently have half a dozen unfinished drafts laying around. I don't say this to prompt a chorus of affirmations; that's just an indicator of my current level of apathy.
But for anyone who misses laughing at my funny little family, here you go. Enjoy ...
That's not poop; that's a slug. Poop don't move, Jim tells Fiona. And for that, we are so very grateful.
Oh my God, I'm going to turn off the water and electricity to the upstairs, Jim says one night. Danny had been "getting a drink of water" for five minutes.
Owie, go put this magnet back in the closet. He trots off and then comes back.
Door closed, he tells me. This totally shocked me.
Later I told Jim: I was just shocked.
SHOCKED, Owen parroted back. More shock.
Owen has POOP, Fiona said as she grabbed the back of his pants.
How do you know? I asked. He had a onesie on, so she couldn't peek in his diaper.
I'm a girl, she responded.
Poop, Fiona declared as she grabbed the back of Danny's underwear.
Dan? I ask after popping my head into his room. There was a pile of comforters on the floor.
I'm hiding, he says. See? Then he wiggled his little fingers out of from under the comforter.
I'm walking up the window, Fiona giggles. I turn to find her with her hands on the table and her feet up the window. Seconds later, her brother wants to do it, too, of course.
No, Danny. She shouldn't have done that and neither can you. There are perfectly good walls you can climb up.
Fi, put this laundry away before we go downstairs.
No, I don't want to. You do it. Deep breath. At least it's better than my response to my mother when I was 6 years old. I asked her when she was going to do any work around here.
Where's the green flashlight?
Fiona broke it this morning.
So I'm going to fix the printer with a broke flashlight. You kids are one step ahead of me.
Okay, Danny, take a deep breath, Jim says. No, no, don't hold your breath. Breath.
What is it? Danny asks of dinner.
It's chicken gumbo.
Oh, it has gum in it.
This just in. I found FiFi climbing up to the top bunk and she lost her footing but caught herself. She said "That was scary," Jim says.
Oh wow. Something finally scared her.
She was being sarcastic. I can't imagine where she gets that. Me, neither, dear. Me neither.
I'm feeding Owen, Fiona says as she pulls her brother into her chest for what appeared to be a hug. This poor boy is going to have issues.
Have a great weekend.
2 comments:
i just left you a comment back on my blog then decided that was silly - i'll just comment again here. sorry - it's been that kind of month. i for one have missed your posts - esp. overheard - my fav. running post of yours. as usual - i laughed. sorry about the woes with your boy - previous post. :o( parenting is such a tricky job. who knew? i sometimes read your posts and think, "OMG. i have been there." it's very odd that i found your blog because i think if we lived in the same town we'd be IRL friends. ;o) hope you have a happy thanksgiving despite it all!!!
OK, so it deleted the comment I wrote. I'll try to remember...
I LOVE Ocean Isle! I think it's actually where Ashley's mom's condo is. It's a great spot for family vacations. If/when you go back, ask me for restaurant recommendations (Calabash Creamery is HEAVEN!!)
It sounds like you're dealing with your feelings and frustrations. It seems difficult and anyone would have trouble. You'll work it all out in time.
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