Wednesday, June 11, 2008

If I Acted Like a Little Boy for a Day

Mornings would be slow-moving as everyone in the house would have to try to tackle each other to the floor to see who gets the blue bowl. Eating would be done while running and laughing and somehow miraculously not choking. To get dressed, I would pull down all the clothes I didn't want to wear, then realize I had pulled down all the clothes in the closet and that I am standing on them and singing a song about reptiles because I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. I would decide to wear a blue shirt with a giant robot face on it and a pair of bright yellow pants that go with a fireman costume. I would look in the mirror and announce that I am roboto-fireman. I would continue looking in the mirror for 10 minutes while practicing karate.

After organizing my legos by dumping them out and seeing which ones flew the farthest when thrown at the ceiling fan, I would suddenly realize I was starving. I would ask for food from everyone around me. Then I would cry because they were taking too long. I would tell them I'm going to die because I'm so hungry. I would lay on the floor and wail and moan while rending my garments.

Once I had eaten quietly for 10 minutes, I would notice my brother sitting there not crying. This would bother me. I would tackle him to the ground and we would roll on the floor for 3 hours until I got hit in the face and started to cry. It would be his fault.

When it got dark, I would have more energy than ever and would run laps around the house until I tripped on a rug and fell. It would not be my fault. Then I would run again and take off all my clothes except my underwear because I'm hot. I would continue to run.

When a neighbor came to visit I would tell them that my cat poops in a box. Then I would laugh until I fell on the floor and almost wet my pants. Then I would do 30 cartwheels, 10 somersaults, carry the cat upside down into my room and shut him in the closet, run laps, eat a peanut butter sandwich, and drink a bottle of water by pouring the water into the lid and spilling it all over the floor.

The end.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Let's take off our clothes and start a fire

Is it just me or does the title of this post sound like an R&B song? Throw in an "OoooOOoooo girl" and Boyz 2 Men could totally sing it.

Dylann had his last day of school over a week ago. He "graduated" kindergarten with flying colors. We let him get a tattoo to celebrate. It says First Graders Rule the Skool! Then we threw him a kegger. Just kidding. We have to draw the line somewhere.

My friend Becky was here with her new husband the weekend before last. We have been friends since the third grade when we scribbled notes all through class and signed them "Your Best French Fri(end)." Because we were clever. And let me tell you! We still are!

This last weekend we went camping. It was full of equal amounts of fun and woe, just like the camping trips of yore. Little bit of fun, little bit of horrible, little bit of happy, little bit of poopy. The highlight of the trip for the boys was that they got to strip their shirts off and play with fire. When it comes to good times, nothing beats shirtless pyromania.

The highlight for me was that we got to ride bikes all over the place. We could have been in a brochure for healthy family activities with the four of us all riding in a row, although we should have been near a meadow or something, and singing. We attempted off-roading it and tried one of the trails, but Jack wasn't a fan of riding over tree roots. He was bouncing so much on his little bike it looked like he was riding on train tracks.

At night we were attacked by sand gnats in our sleep, and when we went to the campground pool the next day, I was very excited to walk around in my bikini looking like a leper. Excuse me while I jump in the pool with all my red welts! After two nights of sleeping with the sand gnats, we all look like we're recovering from small pox. It's the Itchy & Scratchy show.

I'll end this with a clip of Dylann explaining how to catch a fish like a pro: