Stop, Drop and Blog

I kind of need a camera to follow us around at all times to capture our weird conversations. Because someday, these kids are not going to believe that they said things like these. More over, it would help when I was trying to tell FireDad a conversation story that he missed while at the fire department… but I can’t as I’m laughing so hard that I’m crying, doing that gasp, two words, snort, giggle, laugh, snort, two words, gasp thing I do when I tell funny stories.

But FireDad got the point on these two conversations, both brought to you by LittleBrother.

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LittleBrother was sitting at the table eating a lollipop from our never ending stash of Halloween candy. (By the way? I threw away all hard candy, gum, chocolate we don’t like, weird generic candy, crappy candy and general yuck. And we’ll still be eating this until Easter.) Anyway, so yes, at the table, eating a lollipop. It was one of those mini- Tootsie Pops. I watch him take a bite and inspect it. He knows he’s not supposed to chew the gum in  Blow Pop. So he just sits and looks at it for a minute and then proclaims:

“Hey! Someone put poop in this!”

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LittleBrother has been mastering the fine art of putting on his underwear and pants by himself. Without whining. It’s heavenly. I was sitting on his floor, trying to find a shirt in his dresser, when I heard the following:

“Leg hole. Leg hole. Butt hole.”

And that’s how you put on underwear, folks!

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Seriously, he’s not going to believe he said such snort-inducing gems when I recount this story in front of his friends on his sixteenth birthday. I can’t possibly carry around the Flip all day and just record everything in case someone says something funny. That’s the only reason I wish we were on a reality show. Reasons stop there. I mean, if I was on a reality show, the world would know that I’m sitting here in my pink fuzzy robe, procrastinating getting ready with a sea of birthday presents at my feet… and a Where’s Waldo book at my side because I spent a large part of my morning making my way through the collection.

We’re kind of boring anyway. Also kind of annoying. LittleBrother is currently setting off an old fashioned alarm clock, repeatedly, saying, “It’s time to clean up!” No one is cleaning, but the bell just keeps on ringing. Makes me want to repeat the last step of how to put on underwear at no one in particular. Alarms make me twitchy!