At the grocery store (my second trip of the day), I saw a new product in the meat section: “Fast Franks” from Oscar Mayer. Individually wrapped, microwavable hot dogs.
What is so revolutionary? The hot dog is ALREADY in the bun.
The old way:
Microwave a frozen hot dog for 30 seconds.
Place the warmed up hot dog in a bun yourself.
Eat.
Cost: $0.20 per hot dog. $0.10 per bun.
The new way:
Microwave a frozen hot dog and bun for 35 seconds
Eat.
Cost: $1.00 per hot dog/bun combo.
Note how much easier the new way is? It is definitely worth triple the cost.
If only they could pre-squirt the ketchup for an additional 50 cents.
My mother-in-law’s cat had a stroke while Claire was playing with her.
Taking Claire to daycare the learning center today, we passed a few Canada Geese in front of a nursing home…
Claire: “‘Not one’ goose is ‘geese.’”
Me, giving positive reinforcement to her understanding of irregular plurals: “Why, yes!”
I continue driving…
Claire: “What is a baby goose called?”
Me, relishing in this teaching moment: “A ‘gosling.’”
We turn the corner at the local high school as kids are crossing the intersection…
Claire: “What is a baby duck called?”
Me: “A ‘duckling.’”
We pass by the middle school and spot a handicap-capable school bus…
Claire: “What’s a little bus called?”
Me, not skipping a beat: “A ‘busling.’”
If Claire has been an especially adventuresome at daycare the learning center, we wipe her down at night before sending her off to bed.
More specifically, Chris tells me to prepare a warm, soapy washcloth and she washes Claire’s face and hands.
I’m really good at this trivial task. I soak the washcloth in really hot water in the master bathroom, so by the time reaches the family room it is still toasty warm.
Chris had a specific request last night. She wanted me to use the Embrace Happiness body wash from a free sample packet she was given recently. It seemed like a silly name, but I dutifully complied.
When the washcloth was presented they, once again, went on about how nice and warm it was. They also remarked how nicely smelling it was.
Now, for those who don’t know me well, I have no sense of smell. But eager to bond with my four-year-old, I asked Claire what it smelled like.
Claire remarked that it smelled “real good.” When I pressed her again, on WHAT it smelled like, her response was a cheerful:
“It smells like PIZZA!”
Claire will be leaving daycare next month. She’ll be headed to preschool at the local United Methodist Church, about a mile north of our house, where the older two girls went.
The enrollment form is four pages long. At the bottom of the first page they want to know if they need to get permission, from a custodial parent who does not live with the child, for a step-parent to pick the child up. But after explaining what they need to know, here’s how they worded the question:
“Does the child live with both biological parents at the above home address?”
Any guesses why I might find this question annoying?
Do we answer the question they asked? Or do we give them the answer they need to the question they didn’t ask? Or do I complain about the question in my blog?
As we will be unable to get permission from Claire’s birthparents, our only option is for our four-year-old to walk home.
The wrong place to put a cactus plant?
In the kitchen, three inches directly below a light switch.
When you are in the bathtub with your Dora the Explorer pail and fill it up half full with water then stir the water vigorously in a circular motion until a funnel appears, this weather-like phenomenon is called a “tomato.”
So says my daughter Claire.