"Wow, Satan is like the worstest kid ever."
"When I die I'm going to be creamed, not like putting myself in a box, but that other thing, like creamed except we're not supposed to talk about it because it makes me scared. WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS??? AUGH!!!!" Mia, you're the one who started talking about it. "Well, why did you let me?"
"Dear Heavenly Father, thankful for this day, thankful for the food, thankful for my kindergarten, thankful for Eric could not poop in his underwear because that's so disgusting, thankful that Gracie can change him and not me, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
A Rose By Any Other Name
Having a sister 23 years younger than me leads to some interesting conversations as the kiddles try to sort out this "aunt" who seems more like a cousin.
Mia: What is the name of Emma's mom?
Me: Grandma
Grace: No, what is her REAL name?
Me: Sherry, but we call her Grandma.
Mia: That's weird. Do we call her Grandma because she IS a grandma or because she just likes that?
Me: Uh, she's YOUR Grandma. You know, Grandma--my mom, your grandma. That one.
Grace: Whhaaaaaattt?
Mia: Oh. My. Gosh. This is just too weird.
Mia: What is the name of Emma's mom?
Me: Grandma
Grace: No, what is her REAL name?
Me: Sherry, but we call her Grandma.
Mia: That's weird. Do we call her Grandma because she IS a grandma or because she just likes that?
Me: Uh, she's YOUR Grandma. You know, Grandma--my mom, your grandma. That one.
Grace: Whhaaaaaattt?
Mia: Oh. My. Gosh. This is just too weird.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Through the Eyes of Gracie
Mommy: I showed my friends some pictures of you, and I was sooooo happy when they thought that I looked like you, Grace! That was a very nice compliment, because you are beautiful, so if they think I look like you, that means that I am beautiful, too.
Grace: That's not a truth. I don't look like you at all.
Ouch.
Mommy: Why exactly do you not look like me? (gee, let's think here--is it your gorgeous brown skin compared to my splotchy pinky-whitey skin? Or your eyes that we lovingly refer to as 'chocolate,' compared with mine that you kids call 'grass eyes'? Or is it your tightly curled tresses as opposed to my limp locks? Maybe the fact that you barely hit 50 pounds and I, uh, passed that marker on the scale years ago? Which specific dissimilarity did you have in mind?)
Grace: Duh, Mom. You have big breasties; I don't.
Of course. Because other than that we'd practically be twinners.
Grace: That's not a truth. I don't look like you at all.
Ouch.
Mommy: Why exactly do you not look like me? (gee, let's think here--is it your gorgeous brown skin compared to my splotchy pinky-whitey skin? Or your eyes that we lovingly refer to as 'chocolate,' compared with mine that you kids call 'grass eyes'? Or is it your tightly curled tresses as opposed to my limp locks? Maybe the fact that you barely hit 50 pounds and I, uh, passed that marker on the scale years ago? Which specific dissimilarity did you have in mind?)
Grace: Duh, Mom. You have big breasties; I don't.
Of course. Because other than that we'd practically be twinners.
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