In parenting, part one: The Baby and I had a conversation a while back that went like this:
ME: "Can you say cow?"
BABY: "Oh, shit, no."
In knitting: I just unraveled the last of the knitted edge I'd originally planned to use for the Pinwheel Jacket. At least ten hours of knitting, wasted, not due to mistakes or bad materials or something reasonable, but because I can't make up my damned mind.
In housekeeping: Before the in-laws came to visit, we cleaned the house. There was a bar of soap stuck to the sink in the front bathroom that took a ten pound sledge hammer to unstick.
In parenting, part two: We're pretty sure The Baby called us poo-heads last night. Maybe poo-butts. We're not quite sure, but the word 'poo' figured largely, and it was said at the top of her voice while pointing at us. We're poos.
In fitness: I got a carton of protein drink mix; apparently my muscles are sore 'cause my body's not getting enough stuff to fix them. While drinking some the other night, I confessed to the husbeast I felt like a fraud; protein drinks were for Rocky Balboa, not me. He informed me that I look like a fraud, too; I'm supposed to be slugging it back out of some shaker bottle thingie, not sipping it out of a tea cup. My gym doesn't cover this stuff. We discuss donut cravings.
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6 comments:
Ha, I've had some great moments like that one, I suspect!
Hey, I don't know the proper format for joining, but I'm interested in being part of the Strikke-along....
my blog is knitcirus.typepad.com, email koiknitting at yahoo.com
--please keep me posted!
jaala
LOL We had a similar moment when our 2 year old son looked at us and said, "Frenchy-fries, Dammit!" It startled me so much that I almost ran off the road. I think he might have heard the "adult" version from me, considering I was on a diet at the time and craved McDonald's french fries something awful. LOL
I read a lot to our child before he could read to himself, and we read (being that I'm a fiber-holic) all the "Sheep" books, "Sheep in a Jeep," "Sheep Trick or Treat" and so on.
I loved the pictures . . . but anyway, the sheep are not exactly good drivers, and they roll their jeep down a hill into a muddy pond.
So one day I'm driving with the child in a parking lot, and narrowly miss being creamed by some eejit driving diagonally, and the son pipes up, "They drive like a sheep!"
Ho, boy, there's nothing like screaming out your window at some idiot, "You drive like a SHEEP!"
Ha ha ha ha... (sorry...still laughing about the 'Oh, Shit, no!) The pinwheel lace thing is too bad--moslty because you put so much work into it... When Chicken was six years old she called me a 'big fucking bully'. And then cried for an hour to get rid of the taste of soap. I've since allowed her to swear now and again (you can't quote Monty Python without it) but done nobody call mama names!
One day, I was getting my little one out of the car at the grocery store (she was around 2). Someone we couldn't see honked their horn, and she screamed "BITCH!" at the top of her lungs. I looked at her, not really believing what I'd heard, then there was another horn honk, and she screamed it again. My daughter, the chip off the old block!
I am laughing very very hard - thank you so much for the entertainment. I remember my eldest niece's first words were "Oh Shit!" with the appropriate intonation - in grade school she had to censor her baby information
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