Wit and Wisdom - Sleepers Edition

My daughter has discovered the wonders of salt.

Now, with her scrambled eggs she'd like a side of salt, please and thank you.

Needless to say, the most recent car conversation didn't come as a surprise to me.

Here for your reading pleasure, I present you with the latest installment of the wit and wisdom of a 3 year old.

K: Mama? Sleepers are like salt. Except you can't eat them.

Me: Right, don't eat them. How are they like salt?

K: Well, they're itty bitty round like little pieces of salt. I bet if I did eat them, they'd even taste like salt. And if they were yucky, I could just spit them out.

Hmm...interesting.

Let's Make a Deal

My 3 year old thinks her life is a big game of Let's Make a Deal. Except, without farm animals and appliance prizes.

"Here's the deal," I say, trying to rationalize with her.

I'll wait while everyone laughs at me trying to rationalize with a 3 year old....Okay, good, you're done.

"You can either put your pajamas on now and have time to read books before bed. Or you can dilly dally and waste all of your book reading time."

"Well, here's my deal," she tells me with much attitude and her hands on her hips. "First, I'm going to do a big jete and then a spiderman handstand. Then, I'll put my pajamas on. And then, you can read me books."

Obviously, she doesn't understand in Let's Make a Deal the audience isn't allowed to create their own deals.

"K, if you dilly dally I won't have any time to read you books. Put your pajamas on NOW," I tell her so kindly with an abundance of patience.

"But that's not MY deeeealll!"

I guess she feels my deal's a zonk.

Self Taught Meteorologist

I have amazing news to tell you.

I am a meteorologist.

I didn't study meteorology. Apparently, it's not needed. I have a degree in Elementary Education. In my husband's eyes I guess that qualifies me to forecast the weather.

Nearly every freakin day he asks me about the weather.

Usually in the morning as he's dressing for work, I'll hear, "What's it gonna be like today? Is it supposed to rain?"

I'm not sure what he thinks I know, that he doesn't. Maybe he thinks I have charts and graphs in the basement where I plot out the barometric pressure and the current weather conditions. For the record, I don't. I have apps.

On days he forgot to ask me in the morning or when he just wants an updated prediction, I'll get a text.

Him: Not supposed to rain, is it?

Me: Rain? I think yes.

Him: Seriously though, it is supposed to rain?

Me: I'm not sure. I think so.

Me: Yes. Rain tonight. But later. Not sure when it will start.

Over the weekend, I finally asked. "Does Blackberry not have a weather app?"

"Oh, no, they do," he tells me. "I just never liked it very much."

I see. There are countless ways to get your daily weather, but none are as good as your very own personal meteorologist.

I was not surprised when I got a text from him a few hours ago, he must have forgot to ask this morning.

Him: Is it supposed to rain later? Thinking about if I can grill dinner.

Me: No rain. 20% chance of snow today, not tonight.

And an hour later, I received this text.

Him: Snowing here.

Evidently, I'm a very good meteorologist.

 

Marley My Love

I would like to introduce to you a lovely being. Someone who has more brain power than my daughter did for the entire first year of her life. When they designed this piece of flair they had our dog, Marley, in mind. That's just how brillant she is.

This morning, I asked Marley if she would be a doll and write a guest post for me. You know, telling her view on the dark side of Aurora. Naturally, she jumped at the chance.

**************************

Dear Humans,

Can someone please tell me what the eff has happened to my life?

I used to be honored around these parts. I was revered. I was living the good life. Then you brought home that...that, thing. Life has never been the same since.

Tell me, was I not good enough? Did I not jump high enough when I was catching the Frisbee? I think I can rule that out. I've seen that thing attempt to catch, and she has hands. It's laughable, really. Did I not provide you with enough entertainment when it was time to perform tricks? I could have learned to pirouette, I'm sure of it.

But no, you went ahead and brought that thing home. I live here too, you know! I have a voice. I thought life was fine just the way it was.

Just think back to the good old days for a moment. Ah, those were the days. Remember when we would all go out for happy hour? Now, the best I get is Yappy Hour at the SPCA, where, lets face it, you're likely just checking out the drop off policy.

I used to look good, back then. I had regular spa appointments. I'd come home feeling refreshed, smelling good, and with a new toy to boot. Now? Seriously? Look at me.

Do you see what you allow me to look like? Do you see my fur? It hasn't seen professional clippers in years. I do not appreciate the home cuts. Check out my color! I'm supposed to be white and black, not a dingy shade of ecru. And don't even get me started on that heart stuck to my paw. I heard you people laughing about it. I am not a joke! Do not laugh at my misfortune. To top it off, you didn't even remove it for another day or so. Shame on you. You would never allow that thing to go out looking like that.

Now let's discuss the matter of sleeping arrangements. I hear you tell that thing, "Everyone sleeps in their own bed." Well...where's my bed?

Why must I always be forced to share?

I've decided it's time my voice be heard! I will no longer tolerate a subpar standard of living! I expect the same rights as that thing. I am 11 years old, I demand respect, damn it!

I demand more walks, more long hikes, and more dog park time. Some prison inmates see more fresh air than me.

I demand to be talked to respectfully.

Stop yelling at me to get out of the kitchen. I'm just trying to help, the more crumbs I eat the less you have to vacuum.

Stop yelling at me to hurry when I'm outside. I'm old, I don't move as quickly as I used to. The sooner you accept it, the better off things will be.

Stop yelling at me to get out of the way. That thing scares me shitless! Surely, she's out to get me. I spend the majority of her waking hours terrified. Two inches from your feet is the safest place in the house. Sorry for the inconvenience, but remember, you were the one who wanted her.

I do not think I'm asking for much. I only want what I used to have. I know you love me, now it's time you remembered how to show it.

Lots of kisses,

Marley

P.S. I heard you the other day when you were discussing getting another dog. I'm not stupid. I don't need a playmate, I'm 11. I know you're just shopping in advance for my replacement. Real classy.

*****************

Dear Marley,

Touché.

Love,

Your Human Mother

P.S.

I allow K to go out looking like this regularly.

And she gets home cuts, too. Just saying.