The Kid to the garbage man this morning, "wowee, you're doing a good job! Egg-so-lent! Fas-nastic!"
First paycheck of 2013. Ouch.
All of this exercising before I exercise is KILLING me.
Number of times in the past week I've been asked if I'm pregnant: 4
Number of times I almost burst into tears when asked that: 4
Number of times I kept a straight face instead and replied, "No, just chubby.": 4
I'm 97% sure I've missed my calling as The Best Female Boxer in the Universe. The only thing that held me back is the fact that I don't like being hit. Like ever.
New Running Shoes are here! And, the roofing crew working on the building behind us is playing the Mariachi station out of Houston at full blast. Best. Afternoon. Ever.
When I have something The Kid knows she's not supposed to have she points at me and says, "You gotta be nice to me. You gotta share with me. Ok? That's a good choice."
Husband made a tactical error when he downloaded apps for The Kid on The iPad We're Not Supposed to Touch. I was talking about it this morning when The Kid pointed at me and said, "You don't touch the iPad. It's only for big girls. Like me and daddy."
The Kid and I ran some races this morning, all of which she won. On the last one she turned around, petted my leg and said, "It's ok, mamma, you're really fast, too."
Conversation with The Kid:
TK: I'm going to need a helicopter tattoo.
Me: Oh, really? Where are you going to get it?
TK: On my bum. It will be berry be-you-t-ful.
Does anyone have any ideas on how to get a tire off severely rusted lug nuts? You know, beside brute force and a whole can of WD-40 (because more is always better, right?)
Husband took The Kid upstairs to put her to bed. She came back down 30 minutes later sans Husband. When I asked where he was she said, "He's in bed. If he gets out, Ima spank him."
Being an adult sucks. Why must I spend money on tires when I'd rather spend it on a cruise?! Also, there's nothing like being treated like an idiot because people assume you know nothing about cars...
You can always tell how a continuing education class is going to go by how much the participants talk while waiting for the class to start. This dude who thinks he's awesome has been talking non-stop since I walked in the door. It's going to be a long day.
The Kid just walked up to me and said, "Mama, I have a tiny pig in my belly button. She only eats ice cream and lemonade. She's pretty hungry, you'd better get some for her right now."
Due to my outstanding flexibility (which is quite pitiful if you ask me), someone in my continuing education class just asked me if I have professional dance training. Why, yes, yes I do. It's called Zumba and it's at Exygon five times a week. Just ask anyone who goes there with me and they'll tell you how "professional" I look.
I know I'm hardly qualified to give a grammar lesson, but FOR THE LOVE, people! It's "You'RE welcome." As in a contraction of you are. Not "your welcome", which means that you OWN the welcome.
The Kid: Mama, I just love you so much (punctuated with a hug and a kiss).
Me: Aw, thanks, baby!
The Kid: Now. I'm going to need an iPad. And a sister.
The Kid while watching The Incredibles: Oh my word! Mr. Cre-bi-ble just sugared Elast-ma-girl!