At Least I'm Funnier than Somebody

Is there anything better than the sound of a kid laughing? If there is, I haven't found it. I live to hear Alexis laugh. It's somewhat rare that she falls into a fit of breathless giggles (mostly because I never know what will induce it), but every day I go out of my way to make her laugh, if only because I want to hear it.



There are many guaranteed ways of getting the kid to chuckle. Pretend to be disgusted by her stinky feet and she'll treat you with a giggle. Send her on a Poot Hunt (if you think about it, you'll figure out what that is) and she'll laugh out loud. Incorporate the words booty, bum, poop, or bee-bees (I'd tell you what that is, but you wouldn't believe me) into any story and she'll giggle for ten solid minutes.



It's really not that hard to get the kid to laugh. She's the class clown, a room filled with bubbles, the giggle monster, and a ray of sunshine all rolled into one. There are days when all you have to do is look at her and she'll bust up laughing.



When I take her to have her picture taken professionally, I go straight for the stinky feet method of making her laugh. It's guaranteed that I'll get giggles and smiles within seconds. We have managed to get a dozen amazing photos in under five minutes several times. (Local peeps can see proof at South Hills Village Picture People. While you're there, I wouldn't hate it at all if you figured out how I can get all of those photos for free. I only bought one 8x10 because I suck. And didn't have the money for more. And still don't.)



I don't expect that a photographer would know the magic tricks for making my kid laugh, but if somebody is a professional photographer who makes a decent living doing school pictures at daycares and preschools, I kinda think maybe he or she should know how to get a giggle or two out of a short person. It just seems like that would be a really important part of the job.



Alexis agrees.



Yesterday Alexis was one of the first kids to have her school pictures taken. She happily walked to the background, stood on her mark, and waited. The photographer tried a lame joke. Alexis stared, waiting. The photographer tried another lame joke. Alexis stared, waiting. The photographer whipped out a third lame joke. Alexis looked him dead in the eye and said, "You're not funny," right before crossing her little arms across her chest and turning her back to the guy.



He didn't even manage to get one picture.



I'm OK with the total school picture fail because I now know I'm comedy gold in her eyes. After all, she has never once told me, "You're not funny."





(The video is from about a year ago, but it's worthy of a second look.)

I Really Didn't Need More Reason to Hate Verizon

I really do try to keep rants off of this space. I prefer to not call companies out unless I've tried and tried to resolve an issue. This time, however, I'm too mad to do anything but just let it out. Feel free to skip this tirade . . .

I hate Verizon.

I have always hated Verizon.

Now I hate them SO MUCH MORE.

Let me start at the beginning . . . so, we moved on July 17th of this year. A few weeks before that, I diligently called all of our utilities to cancel/transfer service. That process, of course, was painful.

When I called Verizon, I already knew that they didn't offer DSL or FIOS in our new neighborhood, but I still started the conversation with, "We're moving so I would like to transfer our phone and internet service." Mostly I did that in hope that I was wrong because it's much easier to transfer than move. The representative looked up the address and confirmed that which I knew. She chuckled a little and said, "So I guess you just want to cancel."

"Definitely," I replied, thinking that was amazingly easy.

The representative did her clicky clicky magic and confirmed that our internet and home phone service were canceled.

A month later, we got a bill. Since my cell phone is also with Verizon, Mr. Husband didn't think much of it and went ahead and paid it. He figured it was the cell bill plus any final charges that we owed.

The following month, we got another bill. This time it was very obvious that we were still being billed for service at a house we had long ago vacated. So, I called Verizon and was told that we never requested that the internet be canceled.

A few stunned moments later, I managed to convey to the representative that it didn't make much sense why the phone service was canceled but not internet. If I hadn't called, how did the phone service get turned off? She looked back through the records and put in a cancellation notice effective July 17th. The net result was that we had paid for two months of internet service that we didn't owe. The representative told me to discard the bill we had just received and that a refund for those two months would be in the mail.

Fast forward to today, about one month after that phone call. Mr. Husband called me and said that there was a message on our voicemail from a collection agency.

A COLLECTION AGENCY.

Half an hour later, I had managed to get through to a human at the collection agency and learned that Verizon had sent us to collections for an unpaid $39.99 bill. I have to send proof that we don't owe that bill or they will ding my (currently outstanding) credit.

Obviously, I followed up with a call to Verizon. OF COURSE the Customer Service department was closed for the day, but from the automated phone service I was able to figure out that we were debited instead of credited in September. The mother truckers sent it to collections less than a month later and without ever sending any notice in the mail.

*Head explode*

I fear for the representative that answers my call tomorrow, because anything short of hand delivering the money they owe us at that exact moment will likely result in a cuss-filled tirade.

I HATE YOU, VERIZON.

Updated 10/8: I contacted Verizon via Twitter and the issue is currently being worked on. +1 gold star to Verizon for using Twitter . . .

This Kid. She Remembers Stuff.

She sprung out of bed like a rocket, gleefully declaring, "It's picture day!" I don't know exactly why it's so fun to have your picture taken by a stranger, but it is. While I have to resort to trickery and shenanigans to get the kid to make eye contact with a camera, have her stand on the white background at Picture People and she will cheese like a professional model.

As Alexis rushed around to get ready, I wondered if she realized that picture day was at school. When there are dozens of children in need of portraits, it's a lot more like an assembly line and a lot less like the You Are a Super Star! treatment she gets when I take her for pictures. When she asked if she could wear her purple polka-dotted dress, I realized she did know that it was school picture day. That is the dress she wore for pictures in the spring.

As I told her that no, she couldn't wear that dress that she outgrew six months ago, I marveled at how she remembered that detail. I can't remember what I was trying to do five minutes ago. Six months is pretty lost on me. Given that I frequently depend on the kid to remember where I parked at the mall, though, I wasn't entirely surprised.

Then she asked if she could wear her red dress. I pulled out the one we had recently picked out at the store together. "Not that red dress," she told me.

I was confuzzled.

She explained further and I realized she meant the red corduroy dress with matching ballet flats that she hasn't worn in A YEAR. In fact, the last time she wore it was for picture day last fall.

While I told her that dress was also too small, she asked for yet another one. This time it was the pink striped one that she wore for school pictures two springs ago.

Then she did it again. By the time she was done listing potential school picture dresses, she was all the way back to fall 2007. She was ONE YEAR OLD at the time.

My brain exploded at the realization that her Super Power is remembering exactly what she wore for what event. It's not the most useful skill in the world, but if I can manage to harness it just right, it could be fabulous.