Thursday, July 21, 2011

My own personal ghostbuster

My husband went out of town earlier this week (he's back now, so any potential stalkers out there can just put your machetes away and bug off). The very first night he was gone, my two year old son crawled into my bed at about 2 in the morning. Ok, fine, that's par for the course, plus I kind of like the whole night time snuggle thing, especially knowing that one day I'm going to turn around and he'll be 6 feet tall and smelling like gym socks. Normally, he just snuggles up and goes back to sleep, sometimes aided by ambien, I mean milk. This time however, just to insure that his mother got very little sleep for the next few nights, he puts his tiny, chubby little face mere inches away from mine and whispers PERFECTLY CLEARLY:

"Mama, there's a ghost in the house."

Did you just get goosebumps? I think all my hairs were standing on end, including my unshaved leg and armpit ones. I mean, this is a kid that is still getting the hang of the whole talking thing. He's only recently started putting together somewhat cohesive sentences. It was like someone swapped out my toddler with a mini version of Haley Joel Osment. Obviously, I assured him that ghosts aren't real and there were none in my house, but the whole time my mind was flashing on men in hockey masks and girls hiding under the bed barfing green stuff.

Thanks a lot, dude. Needless to say, I consumed a fair amount of chardonnay while my hubby was away. But to be fair, I do that when he's home, too.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Two Good Reasons for a Three-Way Mirror



One word: Yikes.
Two words: Smuggling meatloaf.
Three words: Check all angles.
Four words: Buy some bigger pants.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

All Growns Up

There are a few things that are clueing me in to the fact that my almost-five-year-old girl is definitely growing up. First, she can swim. Second, she can ride a bike. Third, she beats the snot out of me at Mario Kart, and I am a closet gamer.

But I think she put the nail in the coffin last night when, apropos of nothing, she walked up to me and said:

Her: "Mama, want to know what the real question is?"

Me: "Yeah. What is it?"

Her: *long loud fart*

I mean, that's a set up not even her father has come up with in his 39 years on the planet. And I'm not sure who was prouder, him or her. I was, and still am, shaking my head. And maybe laughing but trying to hide it.