Wit and Wisdom - Sun Edition

Without any ado, I bring to you the latest installment of the wit and wisdom of a 3 year old.

Setting: My car, of course

K: Hey Mama, a jet plane!

Me: I see. It's Southwest. Remember, the orange and blue planes?

For those of you wondering why I feel the need to teach my daughter the airline, it's simple. I'm hoping one day at pre-school, while outside on the playground, a plane will fly over and her intelligence will stun every adult in earshot. I can hear it now...Look, Mrs. Smith! A plane, Southwest, a Boeing 737. You know they have the 737 market cornered, Mrs. Smith?...They will be astounded. They will not believe a princess loving, fancy girl could possess such knowledge.

Anyway.

K: It's really high...I hope it doesn't run into the sun.

Me: Why? What would happen?

I'm just checking to see what knowledge she has on the sun...seemingly, very little.

K: The plane would wake the sun up. And then the sun would drop all the people from the plane down to the road. And that wouldn't be good.

Me: Well, you're right. That certainly wouldn't be good.

So there you have it. Generally, you see the sun depicted as a happy go lucky fellow, always wearing a smile. Clearly, K views the hot ball of plasma in a different light.

 

Trumpets, Doves, and Vomit

 My baby's no longer a baby.

Cue the trumpets! Release the doves!

I knew someday it would happen. And, in the only way that really matters, K turned into a big girl over the weekend.

Our house was hit by a plague-like virus late, late Friday night. I think it was Newton who said, what goes up must come down. Our plague was the opposite. For a good, solid 12 hours, K and I both vomited every bit of liquid and solid we dare put in our body. I had Indian food for dinner Friday night. Let me fill you in on a little lesson I learned...if you think there's a chance you may become deathly ill, don't pick Palak Paneer and shrimp Vindaloo as your last meal.

Pray tell, you ask, what does your grim story of vomit have to do with little K growing up?

In those 12 hours, K vomited half a dozen times. And do you know how many sets of sheets had to be washed? Blankets? Pajamas? Rugs? Heads of hair?  Zero. That's right, zero.

Cue chorus of angels.

It's finally happened, my big girl comprehends the one and only goal when inflicted with a stomach churning illness...aim for the bowl.

You Can Run but You Can't Hide

Recently I had a conversation with a friend of mine.

Me: You feel like an adult yet?

Him: No, I don't want to.

Me: It's inevitable.

Him: I can be an adult without feeling like one.

Me: For awhile, yes. But then one night it will hit you when you realize you can't go see The Girl With the Dragon Tatoo cause it's 2 hours and 38 minutes long and it doesn't start until 9pm.

That's my reality. I am an adult, and I most definitely feel like one. I'm reminded every morning when I look at the puffy, dark circles under my eyes and the wrinkles on my face that weren't there 5 years ago.

I give him props for thinking he can forever feel young. After all, he is still in his 20's. But don't you worry, my friend, one day you're going to look at yourself and think, dear God when did it happen? Maybe it will be a night when you're out with friends and you look around and discover you're the old guy at the bar. Or maybe it will be the morning after a late night drinking, you wake up feeling like death and realize your body can't handle it quite like it used to. Possibly it will hit you when you debate whether or not to call the cops on the noisy college kids partying on their porch too late in the evening. And if by some chance you don't have a scenario that is your Aha moment, I guarantee one day you will look at yourself naked in the mirror and see things that make it impossible to not feel like an adult. Metabolisms go, things shift and wrinkle, gravity takes over. This is inevitable.