Is there some special course in school that teaches kids to leave one drop of juice in the bottle or a tiny morsel of food in the box and then put it back in the pantry?
|Then again, maybe I don't need such a big bowl for my breakfast this morning.|
If so, my kids are taking the AP version of that class.
Sometimes I see lists of conversation-starters to use on date nights, but Phillip and I totally don't need them. Why, even eating handfuls of trail mix can spark a really scintillating conversation between the two of us!
Me: (eating trail mix) You know, they used to have tan M&Ms.
Phillip: The light brown ones? I think I remember those.
Me: Yeah, they don't have them anymore.
Phillip: Hm. You're right.
Me: They replaced them with the blue ones.
Phillip: Oh yeah, they did.
Me: (pause) And now we've just had the most boring conversation there is to have.
Despite the fact that we've apparently run out of interesting things to say, Phillip and I were able to get a sitter and go on a belated anniversary trip alone. (We did bring the baby with us, but when you have 6 kids only bringing one along is the functional equivalent of being alone.)
It was awesome! We picked up some yummy Indian food and brought it to our hotel, where the baby fell asleep in his car seat for our entire meal and a 15-minute trip to the hotel hot tub.
The hot tub was outside so there was a lovely breeze and it was so relaxing. There was even a guy nearby playing softly on his guitar. Heavenly. Then I noticed that the hot tub rules sign said "Spitting and blowing the nose in the spa is prohibited."
WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?? Is the hotel trying to combat a local nose-blowing epidemic? Luckily for us, it was about time to get out, anyway.
Since no anniversary date would be complete without some sort of tasty dessert, we also picked up some gourmet cupcakes.
|My Reese's Peanut Butter Cupcake was delicious.|
And that's all. I definitely did not also get a chocolate hazelnut cupcake and a raspberry lemonade cupcake to go with it.
Stop looking at me like that. You weren't there and you can't prove anything.
Some of you may know I have a thing for bumper stickers. Brevity is, after all, the soul of wit.
You know the stick figure decals you can put on the back window of your car to show how many people are in your family? Well, I saw a vehicle yesterday with a big dragon chasing some of those figures and the words, "Your stick family was delicious."
It takes all kinds, people.
Over the last few months we've had lots of family members staying with us, helping out after the baby came, and watching them made me realize something about myself: I am the world's sloppiest laundry folder.
My piles of folded laundry are never pretty. I think I fold too fast to really flatten things out and line up the edges. As a result, it looks like I'm hiring out our washing to a drunk toddler.
Of course, half the clothes I fold end up getting scattered on the floor and used as a mosh pit anyway, so maybe the point is moot.
And then there was this optimistic sign:
|"Thank you for not letting your children play on the escalators."|
I appreciate the gentle reminder of the rules of your establishment. But taking for granted that I've successfully gotten my children to follow them is assuming a lot. Just saying.