Thursday, December 17, 2015

Turkey Day

About a year ago, Husband backed my car into a wall at my son's school. I was out of town and he sent me a picture of the bashed in bumper with an "Oops, the wall bit your car" message or some such thing (which did not qualify as an apology, I mentioned later). And I've lived with the dent ever since. It's only cosmetic, so while I hate seeing it, it doesn't keep the car from running and it will be stupidly expensive to fix just so that my ego isn't bruised when I look at it. And it least it's easy to find my car at the Y parking lot, where there are a million dusty green Toyota Siennas.

A month ago, Husband's car was sideswiped by another and the driver side door was damaged. No one was injured and the car was otherwise fine, so all-in-all, not tragic. But Husband hated the idea of a dent in his door (funny how the shoe feels on the other foot, right?). There was some concern that the other guy's insurance wouldn't pay since Florida is now a No-Fault state and no ticket is issued unless someone is injured or the car is totaled or some other special wizardry that didn't happen in this case. But, amazingly, the driver told his insurance company the truth and Husband happily called me to tell me that his car would be fixed at no charge to us.

Me: "That's great!"

Husband: "Yeah, what a relief!"

Me: "That guy had good insurance."

Husband: "Yes, he did!"

Me: "Too bad the turkey that messed up my car didn't have good insurance, right?"

Husband: "Ha, yeah, right."

We completed the call and hung up. The Girl piped up from the backseat:

"Hey, wait a minute! Daddy messed up your car! You just called Daddy a turkey!"

Me: "Yes. Yes I did."

The Girl found this very, very funny.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Old, Schmold

Recently, my kids had some friends over to play. The Girl and the two friends got out all 200(ish) of The Boy's Marvel character statues to have an epic battle in the living room. An extensive amount of time was spent organizing the characters and then selecting each child's "team," which would later be sent into battle against the other teams.

One of the boys was painstakingly choosing his team. The Girl clearly thought the game prep was taking too long and urged him to speed up. This got him a little bit flustered.

Friend: I really need Arch Angel* for my team. Where is she? I can't find her anywhere! 

The Girl: She's right there!

Friend: Oh yeah. I already picked her. HA!

The Girl: That means you're old.

Friend (who is 11): What? I'm not old.

The Girl (who is 8): When you can't find something and then you realize you already have it, that means you are old. My mom does that with her sunglasses. She looks around for them but they are really on her head already. She's old. It's what you do when you're old.

Me (from a nearby room): HEY!!!!!

Tessa wanted to play Marvel battle too. ACCESS DENIED!

I refuse to accept the accusation that I am old. I also need to find my sunglasses. I swear the two are not related.

*Name invented because I can only name about five Marvel characters and the one in question wasn't one of those. Sorry, I'm not sorry. 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015


The Girl is a very practical child, when she wants to be. Recently, in class, she was asked to choose the three children that she would like to sit next to when the desks are moved into pairs. The teacher stressed that students should write down the names of students with whom they worked best rather than friends.

Selecting who you sit next to in second grade.... That's a big deal! The Girl told me her list.*

Girl: First, I put down Grace, because we work well together in math class. My second choice was Johnny. And my third choice was Mary.

Me: You didn't pick Michael? You really like him! You've known him forever. 

Girl: Well, the teacher specifically mentioned that we should pick people we work well with. Socially, Michael and I get along great. He makes me laugh, and we really have fun! Academically, I work better with the others. So that's who I chose.

Well, then. Carry on.

(I love it when my eight-year-old is more pragmatic than I am. I totally would have picked Michael.)

*Names changed so that my kid doesn't hurt any other kids' feelings. 


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