Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas.

As we sprinkled reindeer food on the lawn tonight, I got impatient and dumped the rest of the baggie out in a pile on the lawn.

My husband snorted and said "Who's that for? Fatzen?"

Then he chuckled and continued "On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer! On Fatzen!!! FATZEN! GET UP! GOOOOOO!!!"


I feel a story in the works. Tailored especially for obese childrens. ;)

Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Day 40: You Know You're Addicted When...

I have a thing. I love Cranberry Sierra Mist pop. (Yes. Pop.) It only comes out around Thanksgiving and Christmas and I love it. Did I mention I love it? But, I have several smallish children in my house, and they also seem to have a thing for it. They can be across the house and still hear the siren call of that can opening and respond immediately with shrieks of “POP! POP! POOOOP!!!” Inevitably, after many cries for “Some!!! Some!!” I end up with an empty can.

Which is why I've taken to hiding it in the laundry room, on the dryer. So, when I need my fix, I sneak in there and rattle things around and start doing laundry. Try to make it seem like I'm doing chores. On instinct, they flee to the nether regions of our house. This allows me enough time to open the can. They somehow sense the sound and come to investigate. I shove the can behind the box of detergent and start to pour some cat food in her bowl by the time they arrive. They look at me suspiciously. I look at them with an innocent “What?” kind of expression. They walk away slowly. I steal another gulp. They come running at the sound of a satisfied “Ahhhh...” only to find me stain sticking baby poop out of a onesie. I pick up a basket of clothes and nonchalantly walk to one of their bedrooms to start putting the clothes back in the drawer. (Even if said clothes didn't exactly get washed yet.) They follow me, thinking maybe I have something good in the basket.

Soon I have two sets of eyes following me everywhere I go. If I disappear for more than a few seconds, I hear little calls of “Mama? Mama? Where are you?” Where is mama? She's in the laundry room again CHUGGING lukewarm Cranberry Sierra Mist so fast that her hair is curling in the hopes that she'll finish the can before you can find her. That's where.

It's a good thing the holiday season is almost over. So long, my cranberry nectar. Until next year.