Eggsasperation

Yesterday:
Walter: (from downstairs) Mooommmmmmm! I have a problem!
Me: (working on the pc upstairs) What is it?
Walter: I can't get the egg out of the couch!
Me: (pausing my typing and looking in the direction of the stairs) WHAT???? What egg?
Walter: The brown one!
Me: (Running downstairs as I realize he means an actual egg. I rescue the unbroken egg from between two couch cushions and notice the carton of a full dozen eggs sitting unsuspectingly on the couch.) What were you doing??
Walter: (as if it's obvious) Watching them.

End Act I.

This morning:
Walter: (from the kitchen while I make the bed) Mooommmmm! I have the eggs for you!
Me: WHERE DO YOU HAVE THE EGGS?
Walter: (suddenly behind me) In your bedroom.
Me: (taking the carton from his hands) Walter, stop getting the eggs out. What's the deal with the eggs????
Walter: They're so beautiful.
Me: (staring at him. What would you say???)
Walter: What's inside them?
Me: Nothing. Food. For cooking. You've had eggs a million times, buddy.
Walter: Show me.

We proceed to crack, scramble, and cook an egg. He devours it for breakfast. All is well in the world. His curiosity is satisfied.

End Act II.

This afternoon.
Walter: (from the foot of the stairs) Mooommmmm! I have a problem!
Me: (working upstairs at the PC) DO YOU HAVE THE EGGS AGAIN!
Walter: (silence)
Me: Walter?!
Walter: I'm sorry I broked the egg!
Me: (moving toward his voice.... down the stairs...... and at the foot of the stairs almost to my bedroom..... this):

Me: What is the deal with the EGGS????

Walter: I broked the egg.

Me: How? Why do you have an egg right here?

Walter: I kissed it.

Me: Well, do you know where that egg came from? A chicken butt. Don't kiss eggs.

Walter: It came from the refrigerator, Mom. (loud eggsasperated sigh)

Yes.... Walter, I'm so sorry I eggsasperate you.

End Act III. Curtain.

Shifting the Birthday Greeting

I want this to be included when I print the blog at the end of the year..... so I'm popping it in as a post instead of just deleting from the sidebar. Glad I explained? Didn't want mass panic and confusion.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.......To my baby brother. He's the only man who's ever written a song for me. He was but a young teenager when he composed the masterpiece.... "Jen Is Stupid." (No need to mention that it was in response to my own memorable composition, "Dumb, Dumb Timmy.") He's the only man who's ever made me slam my own head in a door. My guess is that he was.... 12. He's the only person I could make cry by staring at or make vomit by throwing a sauteed mushroom into the mouth of. He's the only person I ever tried to shield with my own body while a fed up grandmother threatened him with a willow tree switch. He's the only person who ever gave me a real ponytail for Christmas. Yeah. In a box. It was his. It had a red bow on it. Not the box.... the ponytail. He is a leaver of potions, a member of the Solanoids or Sylanoids or something like that. He is a dresser of dogs, a hider of spam. He is a lover of racing decals and chickens, backfiring vans and braunschweiger. And I love him.

And the Winner Is..... (almost)

Jennifer!!!!!! I am not being vain. I am not bragging. I am simply saying that I almost won. I did. I came in second of ten in a two table semi-friendly poker tournament. Ha. Did David? No. Did Brian? No. Did Jill? No. Did Jeff? No. Did Steven? No. Did Jasmine? No. Did Troy? No. Did Amy? No. Did Shara? No - She beat me. But guess what.... she was the only one. Ohhhhhhhh yeah. I almost rock. And, I got my money back to boot. I was not a loser. Was David? Yes. Was Brian? Yes. Was Jill? Yes. Was Jeff? Yes. Was Steven? Yes. Was Jasmine? Yes. Was Troy? Yes. Was Amy? Yes. Was Shara? No..... whatever.

A Day at the Museum

I never posted these... I guess we went to the museum in late April. The kids enjoyed the day. The highlight is ALWAYS the very graphic and bloody taxidermy area. Torn off zebra legs, bloody zebra rumps, gazelles at the mercy of cheetahs.... it's so..... "AWESOME!"

When you have a nine year old boy....

Life gets interesting. Alek doesn't seem to get as much face time as the others do, but he gets plenty of attention. In the last few weeks, we've had a pet baby red eared slider turtle. We've had a black fuzzy caterpillar spend the night in a pickle jar.

I've become used to the strange tattles of his sister. Yesterday it was, "Mommm.... Alek and Brandon found a dead rat and I think they skinned it's tail!"

I've become used to seeing boys in trees and ropes and pulleys dangling below them. I've had to figure out exactly how the NEW garage door was broken. I've learned that boy sneakers can actually cause your washing machine to stink for WEEKS. I've learned to recognize the sound of nine year olds scaling the gate instead of opening it. I've watched David fish for a bicycle in the creek behind the house using a rope and a wall hook after this explanation: "I was riding my bike and then I was on the ground, but my bike was under the water. Don't know how it happened." (It's a good 10 foot drop and about 4 feet of water.)

I've learned how to make a three dimensional land and water forms project.

I've learned the value of a bowl of dewberries. The gathering of these particular berries required three nine year old boys, a run in with "a gray snake that swam in the water," and the discovery that the wire cattle fence on the far side of the creek is electrified. "I thought Cody was punching my arm! But it was a shock going up my arm!" But let me tell you that during the sleepover that occurred that night, I watched these three boys savor every single berry that they ate.

And in their attempt to ensure the ever-growing number of gray hairs on my head continues to grow, the following afternoon Alek and Brandon wrecked their bikes and broke Brandon's thumb.

And so, you see, while the photos aren't as cute as the three year old's impish grins, the stories are rather interesting.... even harrowing....

I can't wait until summer.................

Snow never lasts.....

And I know this won't either.....

But for now, I love it that when Walter wants cereal for breakfast, he asks for Frosty the Snowflakes.

In the Last Four Days

• My nine year old has asked, while in the car and in the presence of his siblings, "How exactly do you 'get' a baby?"
• 
  My six year old found a box of Tampax and has twice demanded to know exactly why and HOW these are used.
• 
  My three year old has begun to sing, in his best opera voice WHILE IN PUBLIC, "You touched my penis." The purpose, apparently, is to mortify me.
• 
  And this afternoon, my eldest, whilst working with the writing prompt, "My mother is pretty when...," asked if he could substitute the word "average."
  
  If you want a child... I have three. And you can have them on the cheap. (This sale price is good for today only. Prices subject to change - up or down- without notice and for a myriad of reasons.)

Just Stuff

Super cake.

She loves playing soccer. And she's fast.

Start 'em early.We like campfires on the back patio. We like marshmallows. And apparently having a three year old waving a flaming marshmallow just inches from our faces and screaming "Blow it" is not a sufficient deterent. We did this two nights in a row.

A la Nora.

Typical Saturday evening filth.

This is what I woke up to yesterday. And he's relentless. When he is hungry, when he wants anything, he musters the strength to say, "I'm hungwy" or "Mommy, get me food" about 3427 times in a 2 to 3 minute period.

True Love

You'd think maybe that six is too old for balloon love. You'd think wrong. These came home on the night of the cake contest. She announced she would sleep with them. She did.

Easter... Only a month late