No, that's not a typo in the title. My Daddee, the kids' PaPa, used to use that word to me often whenever I was woolgathering or daydreaming or putzing around. Feel free to insert your own term for it. I'm sure you have more than one.
This post doesn't have much of a point or a plot. The pictures and Blogger don't appear to want to cooperate much lately, and I don't feel like fighting through it right this minute. It's bad enough that the printer is already on junior-high-girls-not-speaking status with the laptop. And they claim technology makes our lives easier.
So, while the toilet bowl cleaner soaks into the porcelain thrones and the clean laundry tumbles in the dryer and the bathroom rugs get sudsy, I figured I could justify a few minutes of blogging. The clean dishes will continute to wait patiently in the dishwasher until a big kid is reminded to put them away, and the dirty ones hogging the kitchen sink will just have to wait, patiently or not.
Damon is rocking in the big chair, humming and chanting and sometimes singing along to the Irish music station I have playing. We've heard Celtic Woman, the High Kings, the Dubliners, and others already this morning to get ourselves in a cleaning and dancing mood. He's been hollering, "AGAIN" at the top of his lungs when his favorites end. He doesn't quite understand the difference between a CD that I can hit repeat on an infinite number of times and the radio that plays what it wants when it wants.
This week Care Bear endured two days of the OAA tests. Big, standardized tests that torment elementary school children all this week. She's put in her time and today they're having a read-athon. She hauled her pillow, favorite stuffed animal "Tino", and my silk sleep sack along to school. She didn't wear pajamas, though they were allowed. They've earned some fun downtime. Liam is jealous.
I've been running across funny quotes scribbled on the backs of receipts and school papers. Our quote board is full and I haven't tracked down whether we have any more fresh ones to put up or not. I will give you a few of the ones within reach here.
One of the fourth grade projects was a science experiment followed by a science fair. Carrie chose to shake up cans of pop and document how high they then fizzed. Her hypothesis was that sugar made a difference in fizz height, so she tested regular versus diet pop. The kids had corresponding tri-fold cardboard displays on which they had to decorate and show their findings. They were given directions, naturally, on what needed to be displayed, including their scientific method findings. Of course, it's getting down to the wire and she is running out of time to accomplish all this work. Carrie being Carrie was arguing the need to follow said directions and her conversation with Dada went something like this:
Dada: It says right on this paper what you need to do.
Carrie: Why?
Dada: Why do you think?
Carrie: Why now?
*L-O-N-G pause, in which parents contemplate all the reasons, including homocide and name calling...
Dada takes the high road: Because I said so.
***
Right before the OAAs, Dada told Carrie to "use that beautiful thing above your shoulders."
Carrie replies: my neck?
***
Dada to Mama, who's making her list: Get a rotisserie chicken or two.
Mama: I don't know how to spell row-tiss-er-eee...
Dada: H-O-T, J-U-I-C-Y...
***
Mama: Quit nibbling me! I am NOT a noodle!
Dada: Ah, but you ARE "al dente!"
***
Mama: Liam, do you want a bath or a shower?
Liam: A bath. Always a bath unless it's a hurrying occasion.
***
Damon: IIIIIIIIIIII, right dewe, have some! (May I have some, please?)
***
Damon: I need a BO-NA-NAAHHHH!
***
Damon: This is EWW! Pizza! To no these beans!
(This is probably exactly what I sound like in a foreign language...)
***
Dada: Ohhh, poopy!
Damon: Well, yeah.
Dada: You coulda warned me.
***
Carrie, pre-school dash: I know EXACTLY where my ChapStick is. *DASH* *LOOOONG pause* Oh. It's not there, either.
***
Chattering nonstop, Damon sandwiches between Mama and Dada, who are standing up and trying to talk to each other. Dada: The fruit of your loins is talkin' to ya.
***
Liam, admiring Mama's new scarf: Ohhhh, yours is so SOFT. Mine is like... *p a u s e*... a pineapple!
***
Mama, squishing Damon: Mmmmm, I love you.
Damon: Yah. Me too. Meee too.
***
Mama, admiring Damon: What will you look like when you're 7?
Damon: 8,9 10, 11, 6!
***
Carrie, chattering, yakking, chattering, yakking, chattering, etc.
Dada: Stop talking! I'm going to start calling you Brook!
***
Damon: I not a cutie pie! I Damon!
***
Carrie: I don't WANT a cute butt! I want a BIG butt!
***
Dada to Carrie: Use your experience, not your brains.
Mama: Where's that from?
Dada: Kurth 101.
***
Nina to Rita regarding Damon: Tell Mr. ChubbyCheeks he's not going home with us!
***
Damon: Huh oh. It's whoopsydown. (Uh oh, it's upside down.)
***
Y'all are never going to believe this, but he just put himself to sleep in the big chair and it's only 11 AM. Yesterday, he slept for THREE AND A HALF HOURS at naptime. Can you say "growth spurt"? I should probably mention that his favorite sentence is, "Mama, I hunnry." That's followed by every possible combination of the words "Mama", "I" and "hunnry", I kid you not. With increasing volume.
Okay, laundry's done and so the quote board and I DID find a new one, so I must be off. Have a wonderful day, all!
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