Heard in the trenches

We have some issues in our household with staying seated at the dinner table and having some semblance of etiquette, as evidenced by Zoe's prayer: "Please help us to eat and eat and not play at the table. It's not a toy, it's a table to put food on . . . . Amen"
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The kids were *ehem* "eating lunch" and their conversation went like this:

Zoe: "Jonah, this carrot is as big as a GIANT!"

Jonah: "How big is a giant?"

Zoe: "Hmmm. . . . like a hundred pounds!"

Jonah: "I think mom even weighs a hundred pounds. Don't you mom?"

Me: "Um, let me think about that . . . Yeah."

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Zoe ran over her foot with the door . . . "Ow!" She winced, "I hurted my thumb toe!"

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Mimi (Chris's mom) asked "Zoe, why are you so cute?" Zoe replied matter-of-factly, "Because I took a shower today."

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Kolbi painted Zoe's little fingernails pink. Zoe held up her hands in admiration and stated, "When the boys see my fingers is painted they will want to kiss me on the lips!"

Dad gasped and said, "They'd better not or I'll slap them silly!"

Zoe replied incredulously, "Why daddy? I LOVE boys!"

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After walking through the park, dodging goose poop on the ground, watching the geese graze and swim in he pond, we found some large webbed footprints in the sand.

"Aiden," I asked, "Do you know what made those footprints?"

"Yep!" He replied confidently, "Chickens!!"
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Letter to Mr. Rain

Dear Mr. Rain,

I'm afraid our love affair must come to an end. While we've enjoyed some good times together. . . you've dazzled me with beautiful flowers and tended to my gorgeous green yard . . . you've won over the hearts of my children ~ who love to run through your downpours and the puddles they make . . . and while your dark beauty intrigues and frightens me, it's time to end this charade. I could never love you the way I love Mr. Sunshine. My love for him Eclipses the deep affection I feel for you. I'm afraid my heart will always truly belong to him. But, before parting, I have but a small request. Could you still stay in my life and visit me occasionally so I can selfishly enjoy the benefits of your friendship, whilst giving my heart to my true love, the Sunshine? I know this is a lot to ask, but please consider it. I might even let you marry one of my daughters some day to sweeten the deal.

Sincerely,

Miss Solar Powered

Where baby dragons come from

We took the kids to see "How to Drain Your Dragon" (as Zoe calls it) and I got to sit next to Aiden. I was really enjoying the part where **Spoiler** the kid was bonding with the dragon and I leaned over and whispered in Aiden's ear . . .

Me: "I really love this show"

Aiden: "Me too!"

Me: "I want a baby dragon for a pet!"

Aiden: "Me too!"

Me: "Where do we get some of those?"

Aiden: (looking thoughtful for a moment) "California I think."

Heard in the trenches

Lady Gaga seems to be on the brain around here. Jonah came home from school with the following gem . . .

Jonah: "Mom, how do you wake up Lady Gaga?"

Me: "Huh?" (clueless as usual)

Jonah: "poke-er face."

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Zoe too has gotten into the song too and I often find her singing and dancing to it. I finally heard the words she was singing today . . .

She was walking around singing, "Can't eat my, can't eat my, booger face. . . " Then she stops, looks up at me and says, "Mom, that's gross that she sings about a booger face! Ewww"

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Zoe had gone outside and was sitting on the bench swing with Mimi (Chris's mom). I noticed that her toys were still spread out all over the living room, so I called out to her, "Zoe, are you done with these toys?" "Yes," she says as she imperiously waves her hand at me like she's shooing away a pesky fly, "You can pick them up now."

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Chris told the kids we wanted to take them to see "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" (Big mistake by the way) and Aiden, who is always only half listening pipes in, "Diarrhea wimpy kid!?!"

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Zoe was singing a primary song we sing to people on their birthday. It says, "You've had a birthday, shout hooray! . . . " Zoe's version goes a little more like this . . . "You've had a birthday, shout for Wayne . . . "

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The cluelessness of Mom

Zoe has taken notice of my appearance lately. She notices when my hair is undone or unruly and she tells me that I didn't do a good job, only she does a good job. Then she runs to get the hairbrush to fix her poor, clueless mom.

This morning, I had my hair pulled back in a sloppy bun with an assortment of clips in my hair to keep my bangs out of the way so I could wash and apply make-up to my face. I looked decidedly Medusa-like I'll admit. Zoe walked into the bathroom, climbed up on the step stool and watched intently for a few minutes.

"Mom, you look weird!" She states.

"Thanks a lot Zoe, that's very sweet of you to say" I reply facetiously.

Obviously flummoxed that her subtle hint didn't make it through my thick skull, she puts her hands on her hips and says "Weird means NOT pretty."