It's Her Name, and Her Name

We knew when we picked her name that it wasn't the most original one of all time, but I didn't really expect Alexis to have a name twin in her daycare class so soon. Yet, she recently gained one, which has led to a bit of an identity crisis.

Earlier today, just like every day, I was asking Alexis how school was. I go through a whole parade of questions, including "Did anybody go to time out?" I ask that question because it's a good opportunity to talk about why it's not nice to hit, pinch, kick, push, lick, and any of the other things that the kids do to each other that lands them in Toddler Purgatory. Alexis ALWAYS sells out her classmates, and while she's at it, she tattles on herself, too. So, it wasn't really a shock when she said, "Alexis go to time out."

I figured I should clarify whether she meant herself or the other Alexis. "Did you go to time out?" That's when the crisis set in.

"No, Alexis go to time out."

"So, the other Alexis went to time out."

"No, I go to time out."

"Why did you go to time out?"

"Alexis scratched Joe."

"You scratched Joe?"

"No, Alexis scratched Joe."

"Other Alexis scratched Joe?"

"No, Alexis scratched Joe."

"Alexis, were you the one that was mean to Joe?"

"Yes, Alexis was mean."

"You Alexis? Or other Alexis"

"Alexis. Alexis was mean."

And on and on and on. I felt like I was Costello and Abbot was refusing to tell me who was on first. In fact, after 20 minutes of conversation, I still don't actually know who, if anybody, was beating up other kids in daycare today.

Suddenly I understand how it is that people name their kid something like "Apple." Actually, no I don't. Then the identity crisis would be with a piece of fruit.

Some Thoughts

I Might Have to Rename Him AssTom

One of my skills in life is that I'm really good at finding places. As in, you can drop me in any major city and I will find Target. Without a map. Or directions. Or a homing device. I can also figure out which way is North at any point in time, which comes in very handy since I'm inclined to wing it every time I go to a new city. When I traveled a lot, I used to bother with a printed map or something in case of mystery, but have always tended to just sort of find the place I was trying to get to. Seriously, I'm very good at it. I'm not saying I get there using the shortest path possible, but I get there without any help.

I would have done the exact same thing on this trip, especially since I knew my hotel was downtown and hello! downtown is ALWAYS easy to find. However, we recently acquired my good buddy AusTom the GPS, so I figured I would make him earn his keep.

Oops.

AusTom and I sort-of-maybe-kind-of got in a bit of a fight on the way from the airport to the hotel the other night. It was ALL AusTom's fault because he is a big fat lying murderous piece of electronic junk. I SWEAR this is EXACTLY how the battle royale went down:

Keep left . . . keep left . . . exit right.

What?

Exit right.

When?

Exit right.

Now? Across five lanes of traffic? WTF? (Yeah, I say WTF when nobody's around. WHAT ABOUT IT?)

Exit right then turn right.

Whatever.

Turn left.

Hello! That is a one-way street. Are you trying to get me a ticket? Do you realize that I look way more Snow Whitish than I do in my license picture? Like any cop is going to believe THAT shizznet.

Turn left.

Screw you.

Exit right then take the motorway.

The motorway? Hello, Madonna and your fake British accent.

Keep left then exit in two miles . . . keep left . . . exit right.

OMG! What is wrong with you?

Turn right.

THERE IS NO ROAD THERE. Seriously. You ARE trying to kill me. OH HELLS NO. That is a river, you moron.

Turn around.

In the midst of this whole scenario in which I learned that AusTom can't deal when a highway splits into three parts, the Na Na Song came on the radio. Before the second "Na" could fall out of P!nk's mouth, my right thumb was busy trying to slam the up volume button the steering wheel which wasn't there because OH YEAH the goobers at the rental agency only had momivans and the momivan that I'm driving doesn't have radio controls on the steering wheel. That is WRONG WRONG WRONG because I need those stupid controls for when the Toddler in the back seat is yelling at me to turn up her Na Na Song. Yeah, sure, I didn't actually have the Toddler with me as I struggled to figure out how to crank the radio, but I'M TRAINED.

It was stressful. In an all in my head sort of way.

As for the momivan, there is a reason that I drive an itty bitty car. I need weave room. If whatever I'm driving is so big that it actually takes up a lane and I maybe-sort-of drift a bit because, oh, I don't know, maybe AusTom is busy telling me to stay left when I really need to stay right and I'm trying to figure out who is for sure right by reading signs and AusTom's little display, there's likely to be some sort of incident.

Not that I would ever dream of launching AusTom down a one-way street into the river or anything. Nope.