Every week, as part of his language arts homework, Mister Bubby has to write a paragraph from a prompt. Last week’s prompt was “Just as the children went through the door to head home…” Mister Bubby’s paragraph:
Just as the children went through the door to head home, a humongous fish ate them all. They couldn’t be buried because the bodies were all inside the monster’s stomach. Finally, he threw them up, alive! No funeral was done. The end.
Most weeks it’s a variation on the same themes, death and mayhem. I believe this is the first time everyone survived. I just thought it was noteworthy.
I don’t know when Girlfriend decided to start licking me, but it’s weird. This morning she didn’t lick me, though. Instead she opened up my mouth and yelled down my throat. That was also weird.
Princess Zurg: “If bums didn’t have a nervous system, no children would ever be spanked.”
More on Princess Zurg: She’s been dressing in all black for quite some time. Since she turned twelve and I gave her permission to start wearing make-up on a daily basis rather than a special-occasion basis, she’s been going to school in black lipstick and heavy black eyeliner. That’s my Disney Goth Princess. It was really hard for me to decide where to put ye olde parental foot down vis a vis grooming and appearance. I don’t want her growing up too soon, but I don’t want to be sweating the small stuff, either. Part of me is hoping that she’ll get all this anti-social stuff out of her system at an early age so that by the time she’s 16 or 17 she’ll have rebellion fatigue just as the real opportunities are presenting themselves. But the other part of me thinks she’s probably just getting a head start.
Anyway, today she went to school looking like a 12-year-old ought to look (in my opinion), and it was pretty awesome. It really made my day, actually, but I didn’t comment on it (not to her face, anyway). That would have been dumb.
More on Mister Bubby: Last week his Cub Scout troop had their pinewood derby, and while MB’s car did not win any awards for racing, it did win first place for creative design. There’s no funny story here. I’m just proud of him. Here are some pictures.
MB is really into basketball these days. His current career goal is “NBA Legend.” He is so serious about playing basketball that he actually bought a basketball with his own money. (Ordinarily he is quite the miser.) When it’s not raining outside, he asks me, “Mom, is it okay if I go down to the hoops?” That just kills me.
I still have Elvis. He just hasn’t done anything novel lately.
(That’s probably not true, actually. Perhaps I have just put the novel things out of my mind.)
More from Girlfriend: “Mommy, my eyebrows are rainbows.”
Stuff tangentially related to PZ: Last Friday she had her birthday party. Four kids came. All four kids had ADHD. No, for real. I came to this realization the night before the party and wondered how it was that PZ, who does not have ADHD, came to be so attracted to hyperactive children. But that’s neither here nor there.
The most precious part of the evening was when they were all sitting around the table eating pizza and one of the kids said, “I have ADHD,” and another one immediately piped up, “I have ADHD, too!” “Me too!” “So do I!” If only the rest of the evening had been so delightful.
At 8 p.m. two of the kids went home, and the remaining two kids–PZ’s best friends and the most hyperactive and uninhibited of all the invitees–stayed the night. These two girls had not met before this night, and my biggest worry had been that there would be jealousy and they wouldn’t get along.
AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA!
So yeah, they got along swimmingly–two ids in a strobe light pumped full of orange soda and Jujubees. (That latter part is not a metaphor; that is what my husband decided to feed them at 9:30 p.m.) They didn’t sleep at all. (You don’t say!) At 3:30 a.m. I woke up and could hear their voices. I went downstairs to tell them to settle down. I found PZ passed out on the couch. The other two were wide awake, chattering. Toys were strewn everywhere, orange soda was spilled on the floors, candy was ground into the carpet, and one of the girls was naked save for her underpants. (Apparently she had spilled orange soda on her clothes in addition to other items not belonging to her.) While the girls continued their sugar-informed mayhem, I started cleaning up the mess to distract myself from my more homicidal thoughts. At 4:30 a.m. I went upstairs, hoping to go back to sleep. Then they started playing the piano.
When I took them home the next morning, one of the girls said, “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
I said, “Yes, we should do it again sometime [after I’m dead].”
On another tangentially-related note, here is Sugar Daddy’s new shirt:
That’s all I have for now, folks.