As all of you know I am living in a constant state of home improvement. Because of the unending nature of the living room painting project, I have gotten into the bad habit of leaving all sorts of adhesives and paint, etc. laying about...out of reach of little hands but accessible at a moment's notice to me.
Last night after dinner, the kids were in the living room and B and I remained in the kitchen chatting for a while. After a few minutes New Baby ran back into the kitchen with a mouth full of something and spit it on the floor. It was white-ish in color and smooth in consistency.
Alarmed at what she may have ingested, I ran to the living room to see if she's managed to get ahold of any of the toxic chemicals I have stored there. Nothing seemed amiss, all the paint cans, etc, sealed up. I returned to the kitchen and wiped up the spit up with a paper towel, assuring the father of my children that everything was OK, she hadn't swallowed paint or glue. I stood there with the disgusting sputum covered towel in hand, about to throw it away, when my Doubting Thomas of a husband rushed over, swiped a figure through the mystery substance and TASTED it. "I had to be sure." he said.
It turns out that New Baby had squirrelled some cheese sauce from her dinner in her cheeks and had been holding it there for a while before presenting us with it.
As you might expect, I had no choice but to retch. This may be one of the most horrifying things I've seen anyone do.
I think I need to be sick again. Goodbye.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Before I forget this one forever...
When we first moved to Massachusetts and were settling in to our new home, my dear mother came for a visit-to help out with the unpacking and all of that. What she did best, of course, was watch after her two darling granddaughters.
One afternoon, Grandma took the girls on a walk to the library and for ice cream afterward. At some point during the walk, Old Baby made the decision to screw around atop a rather large piece of granite (superfluous note: this place is chock full o' igneous rocks, big chunks, which is novel to those of us used to a more sedimentary type...I'm still surprised to see big boulders of the stuff lying about), and as a result fell and injured her foot/ankle area. This is the type of thing that happens almost everyday so I didn't really pay it any mind until my new next door neighbor approached me the following day after Old Baby had spent some time playing at their house.
She looked a little confused, and asked me what exactly had happened to Old Baby's foot. I told her and a look of relief washed over her face.
"Why do you ask?" I inquired, wondering where this might be going.
"Oh, it's nothing", she replied, "only that she told me earlier today that the reason that she had a boo-boo is that she had been attacked by a police dog yesterday."
My neighbor continues, "She also claims that she has a deadly allergy to watermelon." (No, she doesn't, and I'm fairly certain no one else in the world does either.)
We're still laughing about this.
Little bullshitter.
One afternoon, Grandma took the girls on a walk to the library and for ice cream afterward. At some point during the walk, Old Baby made the decision to screw around atop a rather large piece of granite (superfluous note: this place is chock full o' igneous rocks, big chunks, which is novel to those of us used to a more sedimentary type...I'm still surprised to see big boulders of the stuff lying about), and as a result fell and injured her foot/ankle area. This is the type of thing that happens almost everyday so I didn't really pay it any mind until my new next door neighbor approached me the following day after Old Baby had spent some time playing at their house.
She looked a little confused, and asked me what exactly had happened to Old Baby's foot. I told her and a look of relief washed over her face.
"Why do you ask?" I inquired, wondering where this might be going.
"Oh, it's nothing", she replied, "only that she told me earlier today that the reason that she had a boo-boo is that she had been attacked by a police dog yesterday."
My neighbor continues, "She also claims that she has a deadly allergy to watermelon." (No, she doesn't, and I'm fairly certain no one else in the world does either.)
We're still laughing about this.
Little bullshitter.
The American Dream
After the Obama election, I walked around in a haze for a day or two, shedding the occasional tear of joy and thinking about how to best explain to Old Baby why this was so important.
As my husband and children are all "persons of color", I wanted to impress upon my 5-year-old why this election was of particular interest to our family, but I had a hard time coming up with the proper way to say it, especially due to the fact that I don't think Old Baby is yet aware of any type of racial bias.
What I ended up saying to her was simply: "This election has shown us that it is possible in this country to become whatever you want to be if you are willing to work hard enough for it." This was, admittedly, pretty lame.
Old Baby looked at me for a moment, removed her thumb from her mouth, and told me: "I want to be the Tooth Fairy".
Realizing that this would require some backpedaling on my part, I explained that the Tooth Fairy job has been taken, permanently, and that she would have to think of something else she really wanted to be.
After a couple of seconds, she tells me her second choice dream job: "Then I'll be the Mexican Tooth Fairy."
As my husband and children are all "persons of color", I wanted to impress upon my 5-year-old why this election was of particular interest to our family, but I had a hard time coming up with the proper way to say it, especially due to the fact that I don't think Old Baby is yet aware of any type of racial bias.
What I ended up saying to her was simply: "This election has shown us that it is possible in this country to become whatever you want to be if you are willing to work hard enough for it." This was, admittedly, pretty lame.
Old Baby looked at me for a moment, removed her thumb from her mouth, and told me: "I want to be the Tooth Fairy".
Realizing that this would require some backpedaling on my part, I explained that the Tooth Fairy job has been taken, permanently, and that she would have to think of something else she really wanted to be.
After a couple of seconds, she tells me her second choice dream job: "Then I'll be the Mexican Tooth Fairy."
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