I Know How I Rank

Last night, as I was turning off the lights in preparation for tucking Alexis into her miniature bed, she stumbled upon my sticker stash. The sticker stash that I have been using to reward her for staying in her bed all night, and that I aspire to one day use as a reward her for a successful potty breaks should pigs fly, Mars go into retrograde, and the miracle of pottying in the toilet ever actually happen. She clutched the edges of that sheet of stickers, staring hard with squinted blue eyes, trying to determine exactly which Dora sticker she should ask to have.

I told her, "You can have one in the morning if you stay in your bed all night."

She continued to stare and then excitedly spewed, "Dis one! Dora! Boots! Puuuuuweeze?"

I was tired, and I was weak, so I decided to let her have a sticker right then and there.

I carefully peeled it from the backing and she hurriedly adhered it to the back of her hand. With a grin, a "Dank you!" and a kiss, she snuggled into her sandpaper-like Mickey Mouse sheets. She softly stroked the precious Dora sticker, whispering excitedly to herself, until she finally fell sound asleep.

A few hours later, I heard the familiar sounds of tiny toddler feet shuffling quietly into our room. "Water, please," she whispered. It seemed a long way to walk for a drink of the exact same water that was in her cup right next to her bed, but there's really no point in arguing at 2:00 in the morning. As she handed the bottle back to me, I said, "Go back to bed, Alexis." She shuffled her bare little feet a few inches toward the door then paused. As she peered down at her tiny hands, softly illuminated by the glow of the alarm clock, her brow furrowed deep with thought.

Slowly, carefully, she peeled the Dora sticker from the back of her left hand and handed it to me. "Cuddle, please?" she hesitantly whispered.

My little Dora minion was willing to sacrifice a favorite sticker if it meant she could cuddle with me in my bed. Who could say no to that?

All the Kids in the Pool, Please

Dear Alexis,

I was all set to write you a heartfelt letter about how much I have enjoyed that hour after I pick you up from school all this week. The change in the weather has paved the way for sidewalk chalk, peek-a-boo behind the flowers, and endless rides down the slide. It's been amazing spending that time with you. But, then you went and did it again. Or rather, you didn't do it again. So, instead, let's talk about the kids, mmkay?

The kids.

The kids want to swim in the pool.

What kid doesn't want to swim in the pool? Really. The fact that you hang a billboard all over your face when you're about to drop the kids off in that Dora diaper should make it real easy for us to scoop you up and plop you down over the pool, but you refuse.

You vehemently refuse.

Alexis honey, you are denying the kids their right -as kids- to go for a swim. Today's kids could be halfway to the ocean by now, practicing the butterfly and backstroke while bonding with other kids their age. Instead, they are stuck down in the dark, stinky garage with the dogs' kids. Do you know how cruel that is? No one should have to be around the dogs' kids. That's like locking you in a room with the stinky snot-nosed toddler who likes to bite and hit everybody. While your kids are far from sweet bundles of joy dropped from the heavens, they do not deserve to spend their days surrounded by those smelly brats.

While I get a bit of a kick out of you dropping the kids off on Dora's face, it's time to make some dreams come true. All the kids. In the pool. Now.

Thank you.

Love always,
Mommy (who is totally ready to never change another stinky diaper again)

One of Those Dyson Posts

So.

I have started writing approximately three halfway decent posts only to discover that my snot-filled brain is incapable of stringing together coherent thoughts.

Hey, look, the Pens won!

Oh yeah, I was saying . . . something.

Um, yeah.

So I know I have been sucking harder than a Dyson as of late. It wasn't your imagination. I have sucky suck sucked about the writing lately.

And I'm going to suck again tonight.

I think it's vitally important that I break from this nearly coherent thought to report that the Bulldog has some wicked gas tonight. The kind of gas that will smack you in the head so hard you fall over and end up wishing you were dead just so you wouldn't have to smell.the.stench.

Ugh.

Anyway, I'm going to lock the beast with the poisonous butt in the basement and see if I can sleep off this sinus infection turned headache turned do I really have to breathe? Because ouch. Just ouch.

I will be back. It will be coherent. I will not whine.

Because I'm a really nice Dyson, I'll leave you with links to a few of my favorite old posts. Feel free to review them at your leisure.

There's the shopping one which is soon to be followed up with another similar post because the powers that be have done some things to that website that are just crying out for me to make fun of them. And every parent that buys that worthless crap.

There's also the beginning of the worm saga which is just so much fun.

I might as well bring up the fact that once upon a time I had too much time on my hands. In case you are losing sleep from wonderment, I stuck to my guns. I may have spent approximately eleventy seven fourteen dollars on Caramel Macchiatos almost every day all winter, but I didn't buy a single over-priced Pumpkin Spice Latte.

Finally, there's the origins of Helmet Head and the illustrations of how Helmet Head evolves.

Hey look! It's a cute picture of the kid with the Bulldog!