Finally ! Some down time.
Jack is finally watching tonight’s game. It’s recorded so that he can watch it peacefully once the girls are sleeping. Last time we watched a game together, I asked too many questions and then really aggravated him when I said that the opposite team seem to be better skaters. “They glide better” I said, while our team was losing 5 to 1. Needless to say, I learned a new lesson.
Note to self: Do not say anything negative about the team during a bad game.
In fact, I should’ve stuck with simply not talking to him during the game. What was I thinking?
He was so emotional about it… jeez.
I’ve also learned that to keep our marriage happy I should only say half of the things I’m thinking to say. A less talkative me makes a much happier him.
Poor him he’s got 3 more to deal with, and they all seem to be growing up to be as talkative as me.
Today at the dinner table, A1 asked “Next time I sleep at granma’s I’m going to make cookies, do you think that’s a good idea, a bad idea, a very good idea, a very bad idea, a very very bad idea or a very very good idea?”
Waaaaaaaa? Again we just stand there without an answer. We lost you after “cookie” kid!
Last time at dinner, conversation was about Elephant Poo. “Do you think the Elephant poops this much?” A1 shows the size of a pile, “Or this much?” she show’s a bigger pile. Jack answers “Thiiiiiiiiis muuuuuuuuch!” even A2 was participating to the conversation, after all it was mostly sign language, and poo is a word she knows well.
Poo is a word we know well too. You expect to have to deal with poop when becoming a parent, but no one tells you that it will end up in your hair, on your face and under your socks at least once at some point of the process. You better wish it happens sooner than later, because the older they get, the more real their poop gets. When they’re new born and only drink milk, it barely qualifies as poop, it’s more like mud. It doesn’t even smell all that bad. But when they’re all food group eating toddlers….ooof!
I remember, a long time ago, when my grandmother was changing my bratty little brother’s poopy diaper, he wouldn’t stay put. Poor woman was left in sweats by the time she managed to get him cleaned up. She grabbed a wipe to wipe her face only to realize she had just used the dirty poopy wipe on her face.
I was 8, I laughed so hard not knowing life had similar plans reserved for me…
If someone’s ever scared you by running after you with a Kleenex containing a squished spider, a dirty diaper filled with stinking, hot S&*% is good payback.
Well, I just spent 260 words talking about crap. That’s why blogs are so great, anything goes!
I think next time I’ll write about farts. Oh! So much to say!