Mister Bubby’s fourth grade class is taught about human development

Mister Bubby:  Mom, we had an “informational lesson” today.  Guess what it was on.

Mad:  What?

MB:  Crotches.

Mad:  Huh.


Girlfriend gets a Pillow Pet

Girlfriend:  Mommy, I’m following the constructions [i.e. instructions].  First I have to rub his belly. [rubs Pillow Pet’s belly]  Then…[consulting “constructions”] Mommy, he’ll be my friend forever!

Note:  I have a friend on Facebook (who is really an actual, dear friend outside of Facebook) whose status updates consist almost exclusively of relating stuff her young children have said, their baby-talk language painstakingly reproduced.  If I start doing this consistently, please shoot me.


Elvis requests a snack

Elvis:  Mommy!

Mad:  What?  I’m right here.  What do you need?

Elvis:  I need cheese.

Mad:  Elvis, what time is it?

Elvis:  It’s 4:19.

Mad:  4:19, eh?

Elvis:  Time for cheese.


Mad’s new career

Princess Zurg:  Mom, what if you became a world-famous tap dancer?

Mad:  That would certainly be something.

Mister Bubby:  Would you raise our allowance if you became world-famous?

Mad:  Sure.

MB:  Would you give us $100 a month, if you were a billionaire?

Mad:  Why not?

MB:  Cool!

PZ:  Yeah, but then you’d probably have to travel all over the world and you’d never be home.

Mad:  I promise I’ll take you on tour with me when I become a world-famous tap dancer.

PZ:  Really?

Mad:  Absolutely.


Princess Zurg makes a common mistake

PZ:  Mom, people say I’m like Justin Bieber because I wear a purple hoodie.  They say I’m wearing Justin Bieber colors.

Mad:  Tell them, “Justin Bieber doesn’t own these colors.”

PZ:  I guess I could do that.

Mad:  Did I ever tell you that when I was young, my favorite color was purple, and people used to tease me because–

PZ:  Yeah, because it was Ozzy Osbourne’s favorite color, too.

Mad:  Uh, no.  It was Donny Osmond, not Ozzy Osbourne.

PZ:  Oh!


In case you’re wondering, my tap recital last night went (I think) very well.  At least much better than I was afraid it was going to be.  A new and unfamiliar venue, lots of last-minute changes, not as much rehearsing as usual, and then there was my selective competence, which is always the wild card in these situations.  I feared disaster, but it was (I think) certainly not a disaster.  At any rate, it’s over now.  Now I can concentrate on surviving the next eight weeks with my husband not-at-work.  I should probably go grocery shopping today.  But I think I want to take a nap now.