We're sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialled.

Little just got the cell phone. She was very excitedly hitting buttons, babbling about her daddy when she accidentally hit the off button:

Caw Da-de! caw Da De!...oooops

How to do the dishes.

1. Open dishwasher.
2. Get Little off dishwasher door; move her to other side of room.
3.  Remove silverware.  KNIVES FIRST! KNIVES FIRST!
4. Grab little before she grabs the forks; distract with toys.
5. Remove other flatware.
6.Take Little out of dishwasher again.
7. Take plates away from Little, distract with Tupperware/wooden spoon.
8.Remove plates.
9.Remove diaper Little has-surprisingly neatly-put in dish rack.
10. Get Little off dishwasher door; move her to other side of room.
11. Start unloading top rack.
12. Admire Little's dance moves as she tries to shimmy her way up to the top rack.
13. Put cups away.
14. Get Little out of dishwasher.

Attempt to load dirty dishes in washer; think better of it and leave until bedtime.

Last Friday night, I was really tired and achy.  So tired, that I went to bed before the kids.  However, I did not go to sleep right away. 

See, Big had just gotten out of a bath.  Husband sent him to his room to get pajamas on, while he cleaned up the baby.  Basically, Big is in his room-directly opposite mine-and Husband is downstairs, in the kitchen.  Husband has obviously told Big not to be too loud, as Mommyomy is trying to sleep.  And I hear the following:

(Loud whisper) Daddy!...Daddy!  Daaaaady...I need a shirt daddy!  Daddy?  Daaaaaddddy

And don't ask me how I know, but I knew, I just knew...

There was a completely naked little boy outside my door.

The Conversation that Ensued

 Big?

Hi Mommy!

Hi, Honey.  Um, are you...wearing clothes?

Um, I was? putting on clothes?  but I can't find a shirt.

Ok, baby, but, you've got underwear in your room, right?

(clearly not getting where I am going) yeah...

And pants?  You've got pj pants, or sweats?

Yeah...

So why don't you put those on?

But...I need a shirt.

But maybe you can put on your pants and then get a shirt?

But the shirts are downstairs?

So, how about you put on your pants, and THEN go downstairs and tell Daddy about your shirt problem?

OH!....Ok.

In other news, Little spent a good deal of Saturday pulling tissues out of a box ("bah!") and then stuffing them back in ("bah-bah!")  And it only cost a dollar for for a day full of joy! Take THAT Fancy Toy Store!

Milking it.

If you give Little some milk, chances are she's going to dribble it all over and want a napkin to clean it up.
If you give her a napkin, chances are she'll drop it over the side of her high-chair, and say "bah-bye!"
Chances are good that the napkin will not reciprocate, and she'll want another one.

If you give her another napkin, chances are that she'll just throw it on the floor again.
When you stop giving her napkins, chances are, she's going to throw a fit.
If she throws a fit, chances are, she's going to throw her sippy of milk.
And if she throws her sippy of milk, chances are you're really going to need some napkins.

Too bad you gave them all to the baby.

Sigh.

Sorry, Mary Poppins-I didn't mean it!

I'm not sure what is up with Little, but there has been a lot of waking up in the middle of the night lately.  Sometimes, it's a kvetchy-not-quite-awake crying, which will peter in and out for a few minutes (unless she manages to pull herself upright and then try to fall asleep standing at the side of her crib, that is apparently NOT SO COMFORTABLE), sometimes it's an all-out WAH-FREAKING-AH that lasts for hours.  And wakes up her brother.  Though, not, apparently, the only other adult in the house.

So, last night, I went to sleep ridiculously early.  And though Little did wake up before dawn, I got a decent amount of sleep.

Unfortunately, I spent the entire night dreaming I was trying to get Little to sleep.  Oh, and plotting to do in Mary Poppins. 

Well, he IS a 5 year-old boy...

So, Big is in kindergarten, and learning to write.  The teachers encourage the students to start by writing the sounds they hear, without worrying about spelling.  (There's a name for this system, but I forget what it is.)
One of the first activities they had the kids do was fill in a page on what they did to get ready for the first day of kindergarten.  And then, they posted them on the wall. Outside.  For ALL the parents to see.

Thank goodness they also provided a translation, (for the record, it's "eat fruit"), because apparently, Big wrote:

To get ready for kindergarten I:   FRT

Crazy Poetry

Just so you know, this is the second time I'm writing this.  Don't know what's up with the blogosphere today, but you betcha I will be copying this before I hit post again.

Anyway, I was cleaning up today (no, really-Big lost a library book and it's due tomorrow) and I found these.  I thought I'd save them for prosperity.

Fruit Stand  I

A peach,
a plum-
two different worlds-
meet in the fruit aisle
and get along well.

Meanwhile,
a stray cucumber
finds itself in the freezer compartment
and is not well received.
The raisins in the meat section
receive much the same treatment
to their chagrin.

Fruit Stand II

Mango and papaya
flit silently
across the aisle
heading for the salad bar.
Oh, silly, silly fruits of the topics!
You'll never find a drink there
and your clandestine rendezvous will be only a disappointment.
No matter how exotic your origins,
you'll never make it past the fish counter.

These poems were written when I was rather sick and feverish.  Kinda shows, doesn't it?   This next one was written after some sleep deprivation/REM cycle interruption.

Reality/Dream

In reality,
my nephew is named M*
and dirty laundry stays in my house
(if not always the hamper.)

In my dream,
my nephew is called Nicky,
and I have a pile of dirty socks in my sister's back yard.

In reality,
I'm a fairly decent dresser
by which I mean I always wear clothes appropriately-
shirt, shoes, dresses, etc.

In my dream,
undergarments are suitable outfits for winter and walks,
but not,
for some reason,
driving.

In reality,
I'm normal
though I do mean that in the loosest sense of the word.
In my dreams,
I have superpowers
but no one else seems to know this.


*Name withheld for privacy.  Poor kid doesn't need the world knowing we share the same gene pool.