Thursday, August 25, 2011

Clarification, Preschool-style

My daughter (almost 5): Mama, your hair smells like poop.

Me: Excuse me? That's not very nice.

Her: Sorry. I meant garbage.

My 6 Favorite Letters

Every so often, I need to be reminded that I am an adult. In these desperate times, I turn to two sources, for very different reasons.

My kids may be handing me boogers from the back seat of the minivan, or demanding "warm apple cider, not cold, not hot, WARM" or peeing on the back lawn (their new favorite activity), but for a few minutes, I am either a) an intelligent, educated person capable of discussing issues in the middle east or someone's latest novel or b) rolling around in a shitstorm of celebrity drama. Either way, I'm transported. And I love it.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

You Will Be Safe, Dammit

I'm all for child safety. My almost five-year-old daughter still sits in a full car seat despite the fact that she's weighed over 40 pounds since she was three. I own life vests for my daughter, my son, and yes, even my dog. (Bulldogs can't swim. Short arm/fat body syndrome.) BUT THIS IS RIDICULOUS.

What do you think is keeping him safer? The no less than 10 flotation devices strapped to his tiny little frame or the fact that no one will get near him because he looks like a mini suicide bomber? Maybe that can be his Halloween costume this year.

Yes, I know that's a terrible thing to say. But this is a terrible thing to do to a child. Oh, the humanity.