I figured it's time for some laughs around this joint. I know I could use some. What better than a
Das Not Funny! Friday to give me a good chuckle?
A few days ago I was in desperate need of a hair cut. I decided to take Ashlee over to my grandmas and let Elizabeth go with me. On the way over to my grandmas Elizabeth, Ashlee and I started talking about babies.
Y'all have to understand, Ashlee is a baby lover. She spends the majority of her day kissing, hugging,
screeching in the loudest voice possible talking to Abigail and trying with all her might to make her laugh. So I figured it would only be natural for Ashlee to want several babies of her own.
"Ashlee, how many babies do you think you want to have when you grow up?" I asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.
"OH, NO! NO! NO!" she said, waving her arms in front of her, "I'm not having any babies. I'll adopt some though!"
"What?" I said shocked, "You don't want to have any babies from your belly? Why not?"
"Because," she said, as a look of terror crept across her face, "I don't want to be pooping any babies out of my butt! No.thank.you!"
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We live in a town with limited restaurant options which means we frequent the same places often. The older 3 really don't need my help in the bathroom anymore, and when we're in a place that's smaller and if I can see the bathroom doors, I'll let them go on their own.
But, I'm always telling the kids that if a stranger approaches them in the bathroom they are to be nice and polite but if they start asking them too many questions they are to simply say, "My Mom is expecting me back at the table" and then politely excuse themselves and come straight to me.
One afternoon I took the biggest 2 girls out for a lunch date. Elizabeth went to use the bathroom and, of course, a few minutes later Ashlee had to go. Elizabeth emerges from the bathroom giggling, loudly, following quickly by Ashlee doing the same thing.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Mom," Ashlee said through spurts of giggles, "Wizabets and I were in the bathroom washing our hands and I said 'Hi' to her..."
"and I said," Elizabeth interrupted, stifling her own laughter, "My Mom is expecting me back at the table."
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One of the ways we discipline Aaron is to take away any toy resembling a weapon. Just threatening a day without weapons makes his little 4 year old self straighten right up.
However, once those toys are taken away, I'm faced with a barrage of questions about when the next day will be when he can have weapons.
"Mom," he said, looking at me with his big blue eyes, "tomorrow, can I have weapons again?"
"Yes, buddy" I answered, "tomorrow you will be able to have them back."
"Good! Then I'm gonna cut your leg off. And you'll have to hop like dis" (insert a 4 year old hopping on one foot) "and you'll never catch me again and take away my weapons!"
Well, that's one way to avoid punishment. Or not.
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Yesterday morning he had his prized weapons taken away, yet again. As he played in his room he sang the following song:
"I'm Aaron. Da supa-he-whoa boy! I can fly through da air and kill all da emenies. But I can't use da weapons because my Mom took dem all away!"
Good to know his consequences are sinking in a little.
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At the beginning of July we were temporarily living at my grandmother's condo while our house was being treated for an outbreak of fleas. It's pretty glamorous to say your house is flea infested, by the way.
Anyway, one night Luke and I had tucked all our little babes into bed. We'd stuck Ashlee in the bed in the master bedroom because she was having a harder time settling down.
The door to the bedroom creeped open and her little head squeezed through.
"Dad? Mom? I need to show you something."
Luke replied, less than thrilled with, "What."
"You have to come in here," she said, almost whispering.
"Is it a green light on the ceiling?" Luke asked.
I whipped my head around, looking at him nearly in shock.
Ashlee, equally shocked said, "Yes."
"That's a light on the smoke detector. Go to sleep."
"Oh," Ashlee said.
The door clicked shut and we both started giggling.
A few minutes later the door reopens and she stammers, "That's not funny!"
The door slammed behind her. Yeah, actually, it was.
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Olivia has beads in her hair. Something she's wanted for so very long but I've not been able to make happen.
Now, she enthusiastically runs up to me and says, "Momma! Wanna hear my beans?" as she frantically shakes her hair from side to side.
And all this time I thought it was a marble.
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Ella regressed a bit when Abigail was born and decided that poop was best made in her diaper, not in the potty.
The last two days, however, she's gone in the potty! Yay!
Yesterday I asked her if she had pooped a lot in the potty. "Was it a big poop?"I asked, wondering if she had really finished or just relieved the pressure until nap time and a diaper was secure on her bottom.
"Yep," she responded, her blonde curls bouncing around her as she flipped her head up and down, "a big poop. Daddy poops."
"Daddy poops?" I asked.
"Yep. Daddy do big poop. I big poop like Daddy!" She was real proud of herself.
I, on the other hand, while proud of the poop in the potty could have gone with out this information.
Y'all have a great weekend!
