Me: If this baby's a boy, what should we name it?
The Kid: Maryann.
Me: That's a girl name. What if it's a boy?
The Kid: But I don't want a boy.
Me: But what if it is?
The Kid: we'll just send it to Nancy. She likes boys.
The Kid: When I go to Heaven, I want to see Nancy and Reese.
Me: You know they live in Nevada, not Heaven, right?
The Kid: Nevada is Heaven.
Me: Well, I guess that depends on who you ask.
Out of the mouths of babes...
Today at the gym, I literally had to mutter a continual prayer just to be able to finish my workout.
Husband: Hey, are you mommy's sweetheart or daddy's sweetheart?
The Kid: I'm mommy and daddy's sweetheart together. That's how you get to be a princess.
I walk outside after doing the dishes to find The Kid buck nekked, squatting on the patio:
Me: Dude, what're you doing?
The Kid: I 'm trying to poop outside just to see if it works.
If you begin the morning by puking, that day should halt then and there.
The Kid while sitting in a bathroom stall next to an old lady at Chick-Fil-A:
The Kid: She's doing such a good job! Do you think she's gonna poop, too?
Me: I don't know man, it's not nice to ask people that.
The Kid: But if we ask nicely, I bet she'll tell us.
The most embarrassing possible conversation to have with your recently potty trained kid:
The Kid: What happened?
Me: Oh, I peed my pants when I sneezed.
The Kid: So you didn't make it to the potty on time? That's too bad.
Me: We'd better start thinking of something for daddy for Father's Day.
The Kid: I just asked him. He wants a tie with a rainbow so he can look sooo pretty.
Me: When did you ask him?
The Kid: Yesterday tomorrow.
Me: That sounds fishy to me.
The Kid: No, mamma, not a fish. A tie.
Whenever I watch Anne of Green Gables, mostly I just want to forward it to the end where Anne and Gilbert are on the bridge and she says, "I don't want diamond sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you." And then I sigh and swoon because you know how much I love a non-trashy love story.
Me: Hey, since daddy's not here, we can watch whatever we want!
The Kid: Well, what about a little LeBron James?
The Kid: Did Ola Mae (Husband's preferred name) come outta your belly yet?
Me: No. She's not coming out for a long time. She has to stay in and cook a little more. She's gotta get about as big as a watermelon.
The Kid: Ola Mae's gonna stay in your belly to cook watermelon?
Dear People Who Make Maternity Clothes:
Please stop making clothes that do the following: make me look like a blimp, make me feel uglier than I already am, make me look like a pregnant hooker (booty shorts? For real?! I'm 35, not 15. Like, my gut is already going to stick out, no one wants to see my bum cheekies as well.) Why must pregnant (and chubby) ladies be relegated to caftans and mumus?
As I'm buckling The Kid in the car after church:
The Kid: Hey, do you want to go to Popeyes and get some delicious chicken?
Me: Naw, dude, it's Sunday.
The Kid: But mom, it's only 99 cents!
How can something taste so good you literally want to lick your bowl only to be the most repulsive thing you've ever seen four hours later? That's messed up.
People who act ridiculous when there is no cause to be ridiculous drive me absolutely insane. Cut them out, cut them out, I say!
The Kid got this in the mail from her aunt today. She pulled it out and said, "Oh, my word! That's the kind of dress like you wear to the castle!"
Dear Truck Driver,
Why yes, I was shimmying in my car just now. And, while it wasn't for your benefit, I do appreciate the honk and the thumbs up.
The Red Light Dance Party Haver
The Kid has begun packing a bag for the beach (we have no immediate plans to go to the beach, mind you). It includes: four cans of tuna fish, a can of corn, a can of pineapple, seven pens, a calculator, and an extra pair of undies. Looks like we're all set.
I'm seriously thinking about giving The Kid a mullet. Because I can't bear the thought of cutting off her curls, but she constantly has sticky stuff in her hair. Plus, being of my genes, her hair would feather really well a la George Michael. And really, is there anything sassier than George Michael circa 1984? I submit that there is not.
Dear Man In the Stocking Cap,
Thank you so much for coming to Zumba and consequently not following a single piece of choreography. You made my start-out-crappy-day into one of the very best days I've ever had. Like for real.
Your New Best Friend,
The Girl Who Almost Peed Her Pants in Delight
The Kid just pointed to a picture of a lady with six-pack abs and said, "Hey, is this you?" Why yes. Yes, it is.
Someone (me) accidentally left a $20 bill on Husband's car seat last night. This morning Husband is having to hit the body shop for an estimate for an attempted break in. And I'm about to head to the mental hospital for a mental breakdown. For real, people?! FOR REAL?
I'm pretty sure my dad was the only person to ever exist who had complete confidence that I could do/be anything I wanted. And even though he thought most of my ideas were completely nutty, he supported me through every one of them. I miss that. Happy Father's Day, dad.
The Kid gave her daddy a sugar love before going to take her nap this afternoon. When she was finished I said, "Hey, what do you say to daddy?"
She replied, "Thank you! And Happy Mudder's Day for daddies!"
Me: Hey, I have a pair of your undies right here. Let's put them on.
The Kid: Oh! Excelente!
Being pregnant and sick (like sick sick, not pregnant sick) should be against the law. Just one more reason I'm all for reviving pregnancy confinement. Like for real.
The Kid: I don't appreciate it when they yell, "Fire, Fire" in this song.
Me: Oh, you don't appreciate it?
The Kid: No. I really don't.
Me: Hey, go into your room and get some undies.
The Kid: I'm not going I'm there. There's a totally wicked spider in there.
The were DUDES at Zumba today. Not like the old guys in sweatpants pulled up to their armpits who sometimes wander in. Or like The Yoga Instructor Extraordinaire (who, by the way, has jury duty today. I've already prayed he won't get picked so he'll be there Thursday). Like young guys in basketball shorts who try to do the Mr. World pose in the back of the room. Quite shocking, so it was.
The Kid: Ima get a job to liver pizza.
Me: You're going to deliver pizza?
The Kid: Yeah. You know I love pizza.
Me: Well, you can't eat the pizza, you just deliver it.
The Kid: That's ridiculous.