I owe you a sincere thanks for not ticketing my dumb ass as it sped merrily through a 45 mph work zone at 60 miles an hour.  While, um, talking on my cell phone.  I deserved that ticket and we both knew it.  Although to be honest, I’m just glad you didn’t clock me five minutes before, when I was flying low at nearly 90.

However, you were kind enough to make me a deal:  if I listened to your brief lecture on the dangers of speeding – especially through construction areas – you’d let me off with a written warning.  This time.

And that, my good sir, is the best deal I’ve been offered in quite a while.

Thanks again, A grateful new law-abiding citizen

*****

Dear Professor Old:

I’m trying to help you.  Really I am.  However, I have to admit that I’m getting a little frustrated.  We’re talking in circles here.

I told you that I’ll take care of getting the letter that you need.  I promise, I will.  That’s part of my job.  And I guarantee that I will get it signed by our authorized organization representative, a person who is also known as an AOR.

But here’s the thing.  You keep tossing around “AOR”, constantly, in every single e-mail that you send, and to quote Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word, and I do not think it means what you think it means.  Yet you continue to emphasize the necessity.  It’s really the priority at this point, you e-mailed me, to get the AOR.

And while I’d love to oblige, something tells me that my boss may object to being gotten.  As I’ve tried to explain, the AOR is a person.  You can get the AOR’s signature.  You can get the AOR a cup of coffee.  However, you cannot get the AOR.

We won’t even discuss the convoluted manner in which you’re approaching your budget preparation, or the fact that I don’t have a clue how to submit your proposal in the first place.  But none of that matters anyway, because as you’ve pointed out repeatedly – the main thing is just to get the AOR.

Best of luck, NonSoccerMom

*****

Dear Cat:

If you don’t shut your face, I’ll be forced to shut it for you.  Just a gentle word of warning.  FTLOG.

Thanks much, Your incredibly disgruntled owner

*****

Dear Miss T:

I love you dearly, you know that, so I just need to throw this out there:

It is really, really embarrassing when I’m carrying you into a public place for you to have your arms wrapped around my neck while loudly yelling, “I want my Mommy!  I want my Mommy!”

Love, YOUR MOTHER

Finally I sent his teacher an e-mail.  AE’s father and I are concerned, I said.  Is this normal playground roughhousing, or is something more going on?  As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s hard to get the straight story out of a seven-year-old.

She responded almost immediately.  I was aware that this behavior had happened in the past.  I did not realize it was still going on.  I will speak to the boys right away.  I will make sure it stops.  Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention.

When I picked AE up from school that day, the first thing he did was tell me how his teacher had pulled him aside.  I’m supposed to tell her if Alex S. punches me in the privates again, he exclaimed.  Good, I said. Just remember that it’s not a matter of being a tattletale just to get him in trouble.  Punching you like that is not okay.

I know, Mom, he assured me.

A few weeks passed, in which AE’s reports of Alex S.-based harassment seemed less frequent.  He mentioned a few instances in which the kid had been sent to the principal or put in ISS (in-school suspension), but usually because of some other infraction.   But there were a few times where the punishment was a result of punching AE.  In the privates.  Again.

AE assured me that his teacher was on top of it.  She knows, she saw it happen, she sent him right to the principal.

So I let it go.

But yesterday afternoon at work, my phone rang.  It was an outside number that I didn’t recognize, but I figured it was a faculty member calling me from home.  I answered.

Hello, the voice said, this is AE’s teacher, Ms. B.  I wanted to let you know that there was another incident with the boys today.  During music class, Alex S. hit your AE in the privates yet again. I listened quietly as she continued.  I’m at my wit’s end.  I’ve done everything I can think of to get through to Alex S.  I’ve sent him to the principal, he’s been put in ISS.  I’ve told him to stay away from AE and I’ve discussed things with his mom.  As a mother myself, I know how frustrated you must be.  I just want you to know that I’m doing everything I can, but nothing seems to help.

I know you are, I said, and I appreciate it.  They won’t be in the same classroom again next year, will they?

Absolutely not, she said.  I’ve already turned in my recommendation.  AE is a good kid.  He’s not doing anything to provoke this behavior, Alex S. just seems to have fixated on him for some reason.  The other kids in the class were the ones to tell me today.  AE was just standing there minding his own business.

We talked for a few more minutes and she welcomed me to contact the principal, assuring me that he is aware of the entire situation.  Great, thank you for calling me, I said sincerely.  It was after I hung up that I realized: I have absolutely no idea how to deal with this.  These aren’t the things you think about when you’re pregnant and glowing and buying crib sheets.  These aren’t the things you think about confronting with when your toddler is throwing a fit about dinner options for the eleventy hojillionth time.  I’m not prepared for this.

So what do we do?  N and I discussed it, but really, what are our options?  One of my coworkers – whose children are grown – suggested calling the kid’s mother.  Whatever the school’s doing as punishment clearly isn’t making a difference.  You need to make sure his mother is aware there’s a problem. She’s got a point, but the very idea of calling his mom nearly makes me break out in hives.  I’ve met her before, and she was nice enough, but I can’t even fathom beginning THAT conversation.

Well, then tell AE to hit him back, this same coworker suggested.  Yeah, a few male coworkers chimed in.  He needs to hit Alex S. in the nuts.  That’ll teach him. Surprisingly, my mother – a 30-year teaching veteran – suggested the very same thing.

Okay.  While I do realize that often bullies only understand their own language – in this case, nut-punching – I just don’t think I’m ready to tell my kid that I condone such activities, no matter the situation.  It’s a fine line between standing up for oneself and merely stooping to the bully’s level.  On the other hand, I do think he is old enough to understand if we explained Look, normally we don’t allow such things.  And the school will have to punish you, because it is breaking the rules.  But maybe he’ll get it if he sees how much it hurts.  Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone.

But even if we gave the green light, I don’t think AE would be able to bring himself to do that.  He’s not programmed that way.  He’s not like Alex S.

I don’t know.  That’s what it all boils down to.  The school year is almost over, and with the assurance that the boys won’t be in the same classroom next year, I’m tempted to continue to let it go. It’s just this one kid with a fixation, it’s not like AE is constantly the target of bullying.

Except.

N pointed out something that I hadn’t considered – Alex S. attended the school district’s all-day summer camp last year, just like AE.

So with that realization, now there’s another, louder part of me that’s tempted to e-mail the principal a warning.  Just so you know, I’ve given my child the go-ahead to punch Alex S. in the nuts.  Punish him if you want, but we’re taking him out for ice cream afterward.

Miss T: ROWR!!  I a LION!  I scare you!

AE: [giggling]

Miss T: ROWR!  ROWWWWWWWWWWWR!

Me: [laughing] Eat your food please.

Miss T: I a lion!  ROWR!

Me: Please eat.

Miss T: Brovver [brother], I scare you!  I a lion!

AE: [giggling]

Miss T: ROWR!  I keel you, brovver!

AE: [choking]  WHAT?!  Mom!  Did you hear that?

Me: [laughing]

Miss T: I keel you!  I keel you!  ROWWWWWWWWWWWR!

AE: Is she saying-

Me: [laughing]  That’s she’s going to kill you?  I think so.

AE: [offended]  Mom!  That’s not funny!

Miss T: [grinning like mad]  I keel you!  I keel you!

AE: Mom!  NOT!  FUNNY!

Me: [laughing hysterically] I’m going to have to disagree with you there, son.

My dryer is a piece of shit, doo-dah, doo-dah*

The damn thing has started eating drawstrings.  It happened a few times before, but it was sporadic and so I didn’t think much of it but now it’s happening all the time.  There’s this little crevice above the door where the drawstring can evidently get hung.  Last night N and I were watching TV when all of a sudden the dryer noise changed.  I got up to investigate and sure enough, the drawstring of his new running shorts had gotten wedged into that hole.  I rescued them in time, but I lost a dress just a few weeks ago when the string got hung and the dress tumbled and tumbled around it until the string eventually snapped.  A pair of AE’s shorts got all jacked up this weekend, and prior to that a pair of pajama pants fell victim.  What is causing this?  The hole where the strings get hung is not a flaw or something that recently happened.  It’s part of the design.  It’s been there all along.  I’ve been using this dryer for almost four years and suddenly this is a problem?  I’ll tell you right now, I have no qualms about chucking the thing if it continues, that’s for damn sure.  It doesn’t dry my clothes anyway!  ARE YOU LISTENING, DRYER?!  YOU WERE ALREADY ON MY LIST FOR SUCKING AT YOUR ONLY JOB.  IF YOU CONTINUE TO EAT MY CLOTHES I’M KICKING YOUR ASS TO THE CURB.  Ahem.

*”Camptown Races” is the base melody N and I tend to use for a wide variety of catchy made-up song lyrics.  I don’t know.

My daughter sets me straight

Miss T was up past her usual bedtime the other night and consequently got pretty fussy as I was putting her in pajamas.

Miss T: I tired!  I wan my bed!

Me: I know, baby.  Me too.

Miss T: [giving me the Angry Eyes and pointing at the crib]  No.  Dat my bed.  Your bed in your room.

Believe me, kid, I’m not going to fold my 5’8″ self into your tiny little crib when I’ve got a king-size pillow-top mattress a few rooms away.  But thanks for clearing that up!

Mini movie review:  xXx

Why had I not watched this before now?  It was fun!  Exactly what I love in a movie!  Mindless action, great locales, and it didn’t try and take itself too seriously.  Vin Diesel obviously isn’t going for an Oscar, he was just having a good time.  Asia Argento is as gorgeous as the Prague backdrop, and it had just the right mix of action and storyline.  N watched it with me and didn’t complain once, and though we both agreed that the plot could have definitely been better-developed, it wasn’t terrible.  Plus, Samuel L. Jackson is just cool.  Thumbs up!

Fortunately, I like to be busy

We have sooooo much coming up over the next couple of months.  I don’t think we have a free weekend until after returning from Denver in mid-June, then we have a short breather before another round of travel in July.  Baseball games, gymnastics exhibitions, weddings, birthday parties, family visits, business trips…the summer is filling up fast.  It really kind of makes me wonder what we’ll do with ourselves when the kids are grown up and out of the house.  We’ll have a lot of free time, that’s for sure.

Unrelated

I ran 5 miles today.  That is all.

I’ve typed them exactly, so all spelling/grammar errors are his.  My comments are in italics.

Dated 2/25/2010: I played with my sister and my dad yesterday.  We wathed america’s funniest home videos.  I luaghed so hard that I chocked. [Interestingly, I misspell "choked" this exact way every single time I first type it.  I did it just now.] We played video games.  All of us had dinner at the same time.  [There you have it, a glimpse into our fascinating lives.]

Dated 3/1/2010: I woke up on saturday morning and I read a book.  about 15 miuets later dad tried to scare me.  It did not scare me beacuase I was waiting alredy I was like waiting waiting waiting.  [Serious waiting, yo.  Although I'm unclear exactly what it was that he was waiting for.] I remembered our family at a beachouse.  [Random factoid, FTW!] I slept until nine o clock.  [For the record, this child, the earliest riser that has ever existed, has never slept until 9:00 in the morning.  Never once in his entire 7.5 years on this planet.]

Dated 3/3/2010: It took a long time for the bus to get to the play.  Anamaria kept on hitting me while we where on the bus.  When we got there the play was not on yet so me alex s [troublemaker "friend"] and cole [legitimate friend] played simon says.  The beast looked like a lion.  [WTF does that even mean?] Alex s decided it was a good idea to sit by me and take my jacket away from me on the way back.  [SEE?] He punched me in the privates a couple times too.  [I think we need to have a talk about the appropriateness of certain subjects in school essays.  Also, Alex S. is a TROUBLEMAKER.] Cole took my Jacket and told me he Give it to me when we got in the classroom so alex s would not get it.  [Random Capitalization.] Cynthia was right next to me and  did not help at all.  [Damn you, Cynthia!]

Dated 3/22/2010: I went to the zoo with my mom, dad and my sister.  I kind of liked it beacuase it took a lot of time to get there beacuase of the super bad traffic.  [See, and I kind of did NOT like it for that very same reason.] We liked it beacuase [he's quite consistent with the misspelling, at least] we got to see my favorite animals, the cats.  As soon as we saw the first monkey cage I thought oh brother.  [?]

Dated 4/6/2010: I went out of town on Saturday.  As soon as we got there I shouted horray!  On monday I got my cavity filled in It was fun.  [SO fun.  CRAZY fun, as dental fillings are wont to be.] I took 3 minutets.  [Granted, it did not take long.] I went on an egg hunt.  I got $3.25.  [Apparently chronological order - or a logical thought process - is of no consequence.]

And now, the  pièce de résistance, the entry that made me laugh out loud, dated 4/12/2010: I Don’t like it when my dad and mom send me down to a boring place [presumably his grandparents' house, the only place we ever "send" him] and just waste the whole weekend.  [He has STUFF TO DO.  And we are WASTING HIS TIME.] And that’s what they did.  [Horrible!] I had to slap myself 50 times.  [I might actually be concerned about this part if I didn't know my son so well.  This is his idea of a hilarious joke.  Welcome to my life.]

If the entries are going to keep increasing in quality like this batch did, I’m really looking forward to next month’s collection.

Weekend in brief

N and I went to Dallas over the weekend for the Big D Marathon.  N ran the half while Val and I did the 5K (my first official, timed race).  The weather was great for running, and even though I’ve been having problems with my left ankle it went really well.  Plus we hadn’t seen Val in quite a while, so it was great to catch up.  My parents had the kids all weekend so it was a win all around.

Glad it wasn’t me

One of my coworkers forgot his wife’s birthday today.  He was telling me about a conversation he had with her this morning, and man – she caught the poor bastard red-handed.

SOL coworker:  So I was giving her a hard time about lunch plans – ‘Just tell me!  Should I pack my lunch or are we going to meet somewhere?  Come on, just decide!’ and she goes ‘Well, I figured we could go out since it’s my birthday…’ and then I was like, D’OH.

Me:  Um yeah, d’oh.  Haven’t you guys been married for like 20 years?  How could you forget her birthday?!

SOL coworker:  I don’t know!  This is never happened to me before!  What do I do?!

Me:  I recommend sending flowers to her office.  Like, now.

SOL coworker:  I think I will.  Oh, this is bad.  This is very very bad.

Me:  FAIL.

SOL coworker:  Epic.

Break time

I’m really glad that I have several trips on the horizon, because work is becoming ridiculous.  I don’t know what the deal is, but the work is UNENDING.  I get one thing off my plate and three more take its place.  Phone calls, bizarre inquiries, last minute proposals and cluelessness abound these days.  Do you know what I would like?  I would like ONE DAMN DAY where I don’t have to rush rush rush from the second I walk in the building until the minute it’s time to go home.  A day where I can drink my coffee before it gets cold, a day where I don’t feel like I have to eat lunch at my desk.  I know these days aren’t just a myth because I used to have them from time to time.  I would like to place an order, please.

File under Things I Never Thought I’d Say:

“You can’t poop when you’re perched on the edge of the toilet!  Get your butt in the hole!”

Scene:  Kitchen table.  I’m having a sandwich.  Miss T is finishing her (second) dinner (waffles) (don’t judge me) when my mother calls to update me on my grandmother (who was admitted to the hospital for  observation last night).  The boys are at baseball practice.

iPhone: [playing Metallica's Enter Sandman]

Me: Hello?

Mom: Hello!

Miss T: Is Nonna?  Nonna on phone?

Me: [nodding]  Yes, Nonna.  Shh.

Mom: …the doctor says that Mother has 80%…

Miss T: [very loudly]  HELLO, NONNA!

Mom: [now on speakerphone ]  Hello, sweetie!  How’s my little girl?

Miss T: [taking gigantic bite of waffle]  Ogoomshmshmshwffle.

Mom: What?

Me: [turning off speakerphone] She says she’s eating a waffle.

Mom: [laughing]  Ah.  Well anyway, they’re going to do an MRI tomorrow and they…

Miss T: [removing the huge half-chewed bite of waffle from her mouth] I don’t like it.

Mom: …medication can cause a mini-stroke…

Me: OH GROSS.  Sorry, Mom.  GROSS, please don’t do that.  Leave the waffle in your mouth.

Mom: [laughing]

Miss T: But I don’t like it!

Me: You don’t like it  because it’s wet and half-chewed!  Of course it’s nasty now!  [taking the wad o' waffle with a napkin]

Mom: Let me give you Mother’s direct room number so you can call her tomorrow.  Do you have a pen?

Me: A pen?  No, I have a handful of partially masticated waffle.

Mom: Ha ha, well, then I’ll send you an e-mail in the morning.  By the way-

Miss T: Is Lindsey?  Lindsey on phone?

Me: [trying to ignore loud toddler]  What?

Mom: …this weekend and at the house…

Miss T: LINDSEY!  I WAN MY LINDSEY!  MY LINDSEY!  WAN MY LINDSEY!  LINDSEY ON PHONE?

Me: It’s still Nonna on the phone!  How would it be Lindsey?

Mom: Who is Lindsey?

Me: The babysitter.  So-

Miss T: IS NONNA ON PHONE?  I WAN MY NONNA!  NONNA?  WHERE IS NONNA?  I WAN MY NONNA!

Mom: [laughing]

Me: OH MY GOD.

Mom: I’ll let you go.  Tell my sweetie bye for me.

Me: [turning on speakerphone]  Here, you’re on speaker.

Mom: Bye bye, my sweet girl.  I love you!

Miss T: …

Mom: Is she still there?

Me: Apparently NOW she’s going to be quiet.  Talk to you later, Mom.

Mom: Bye!  [hangs up]

Miss T: WHERE MY NONNA GO?  I WAN TO TALK TO NONNA.

Finally people started interacting a little bit, and the coach’s wife came over to chat with AE.  I was surprised at how casually he held a conversation with her.  I still think of him as a preschooler or something, I guess, and am always prepared to answer questions FOR him, like I do with Miss T (although she doesn’t need me to do it either).  But the woman was asking him all sorts of things about his school, does this teacher still teach second grade, do Mrs. So-and-so and Ms. Doe still team-teach, is Mrs. Smith still there.  And he knew all the answers, knowledgeably explaining that no, this teacher now does third grade, Ms. Doe is now team-teaching with a new teacher, and Mrs. Smith now exclusively does speech therapy.  I was so impressed!  When did my little boy become a functional member of society?  He has this whole life outside of mine!  He knows things that I have no idea about!  Crazy!

**********

N and I have apparently decided to go on a travel spree of sorts.

It gets started Memorial Day weekend.  We’re going to Baltimore for his college roommate’s wedding, something we’ve had planned for well over a month.

Then last week, we finally bit the bullet and booked a trip to Denver for mid-June.  We haven’t been back out there since we moved away (almost 7 years ago, GAWD), and AE is old enough now to really appreciate and remember a visit.  So we’ll take him on the grand nostalgic (for us) tour, this is where we used to live, there’s where you were born, etc., and of course we’ll also hit the zoo and Casa Bonita.  (Because no trip to the Denver area is complete without experiencing the weirdness that is Casa Bonita.  Have you seen that episode of South Park?  Yeah.  It’s totally like that.)

And Friday night, we completely lost our minds and booked YET ANOTHER trip, this time to San Francisco in late July.  Why, you ask?  Well, I’m starting grad school in August, and there’s no way we’ll have the time/energy/MONEY to travel very much over the next few years.  So this will be our last hurrah of sorts.  We’ve actually already been to SF (and oh, we adore it) but the draw this time is the marathon.  As you  know, N has already completed a couple of half-marathons, and has another planned for next month (oh yes, and we’re going to Dallas sans kids that weekend.  My poor parents, who are stuck on Kid Duty for all of these wanderings.)  But after April, marathons are pretty hard to come by around here because it’s just too damn hot.  So San Francisco it is.

I’m very excited.  And while N contemplates upping the ante and spending the next 4 months training for the full marathon (AH MAH GAH), I am actually considering going for the half myself.  I’ve recently begun running, you see, and it’s true what they say.  It is addictive.  I think I’ll run the 5K when we go to Dallas, then see if I can’t find a few more of those around here (nice thing about a college town – there are plenty of student organizations to sponsor them).  I do love a challenge, and if training for a half-marathon isn’t a challenge I don’t know what would be.  I think they payoff will be worth the inevitable pain and suffering – I mean, come on.  The half-marathoners get to run across the Golden Gate Bridge.  Twice!

No matter what happens – I think it’s pretty clear I’ve totally lost my marbles.  For reals this time.

Thursday my mom came into town to watch the kids so that N and I could go out and have some time to ourselves.  So we headed out mid-afternoon and just puttered around town, something we rarely get to do (not in a leisurely fashion, anyway).  We putzed around the mall, browsed at Spec’s (and bought plenty of wine), and laughed at the ridiculous band-related merchandise you can find at Hastings.  (Seriously, folks, does anyone really need an old-fashioned twin bell alarm clock with Korn or Slipknot emblazoned on the face?  Survey says: NO.)

We had dinner at Abuelo’s, where I had a sinfully delicious guacamole/shrimp/scallop/white wine enchilada platter with steamed vegetables.  OMG it was so good, I unapologetically ate every last bit.  (And consequently had a horrible stomachache later that night but it was so worth it.)  We followed that up with a trip to a local wine bar, which was pleasantly quiet (as was the restaurant, thanks to spring break) and a nice place to sit and chat.

Then yesterday, my actual birthday, we took the kids to the Houston Zoo.  AE had been asking to go for quite a while and we hadn’t taken the poor kid since his sixth birthday (a year and a half ago).  The weather was nice so we decided to give it a try.

And as it turned out, so did most of the population of the greater Houston area.  Holy crap, but there were a lot of people.  We got stuck in a traffic jam in the museum district, where some moron two cars up was insistent on letting in every single sly rule-breaking last-minute jerkoff into our lane, thereby causing an even bigger delay.  Which would have been a mere annoyance, if it weren’t for the fact that I had consumed a large cup of coffee during the 1.5 hour drive.  And I needed to find some facilities tout de suite, if you catch my drift.  It got so bad that I seriously considered jumping out of the car to utilize a nearby porta-potty.  Or possibly a tree.

We made it to Hermann Park in the nick of time, where N had to let me jump out of the car and run (literally) to the restrooms at the theater while he and the kids searched for a parking spot (which ended up costing us NINE DOLLARS in a nearby garage, but what can you do).

I always forget how much I enjoy the zoo until I actually get there.  My brain manages to hold on to everything that makes it a pain in the ass – the long drive, lack of parking, ticket expense, hot hot sun, crowds, etc. etc. etc. – and blocks the fact that I always have a good time.  I love looking at all of the exotic animals, and it’s always more fun to watch the kids get excited.  Miss T was in absolute AWE.  She loved everything.  She dubbed the Golden Lion Tamarins “baby lions” almost immediately, and she thought the giraffes were most excellent.  She wasn’t as fascinated by the real lions, however, probably because all they do is sleep.  We have animals at home that do that (in fact, later that evening she compared our dog to the lions because of the way she was lying on the carpet.  Very astute, baby girl.)  We had a picnic, checked out the koi in the reflecting pool, and saw the keeper feed the meerkats.  Miss T and I got up close and personal with a 2-year-old Galapagos tortoise while N and AE were in the reptile house, which was pretty neat.  So we had a really good time, traffic and personal near-catastrophes not withstanding.

AND THEN, we got home and I was given my birthday gifts.  One of which was a brand-new laptop!  Whee!  We’ve been talking for a while about how I’ll need my own laptop once I start classes in the fall, so that I can leave the house and study and all that fun stuff.  I’d oh-so-sneakily mentioned to N a few weeks ago that Dell was running a special on their notebook computers, but it turns out that he already knew that and had in fact already ordered me a shiny green one.  Yay!  I’d been giving him a hard time about topping last year’s gift (a trip to a surprise destination) and I think he did a great job of coming pretty damn close.  But now, of course, he’s just creating a greater challenge for himself with each passing year.  I figure by the time I turn 50, he should have worked his way up to the purchase of a small tropical island, yes?

SO!  To sum up:  I may be a year older, but had a pretty awesome birthday celebration to soften the blow.  Win!

Grandma: You know.  Helen.  She’s Bill’s cousin’s wife.

Mee-Mee: [thinking]  Hmm.  No, I don’t think I know her.

Grandma: Yes, yes you do.  Helen Smith!  She used to go to your church.

Mee-Mee: [confused]  No…?  I…I just don’t remember her.

Grandma: [gearing up for a long, drawn-out story that will undoubtedly be pointless]  Well-

Aunt Glo: [rolling her eyes]  Oh, please.  Bottom line?  She’s dead.

Me: [unable to keep from laughing hysterically]

N: [also laughing hysterically]

AE: [always the voice of reason] I don’t think that’s appropriate.

*****

Scene:  Our bedroom.  Miss T is using the bed as her personal trampoline.

Me: Hey!  No jumping on the bed, please.

Miss T: I jump on bed!  Is tamp-o-een.

Me: No.  No, it is NOT a trampoline.  It’s a bed.  For sleeping.

Miss T: [still jumping]  Fo seeping?

Me: Yes.  For sleeping.  Not jumping.

Miss T: [thinking it over]  Is tamp-o-een!

Me: No, it isn’t.  Come on, let’s go play in the living room.  No more jumping.  Come on, now.

Miss T: [waving and jumping]  Bye-bye, Mama!  Mama go play dollhouse!  See oo yater!

N: I think she just told you to get lost.

Me: I believe she did.

Miss T: [jumping and grinning]  Bye!

*****

Scene:  Reminiscing as we drive around the swamp, late Saturday evening.

Me: There’s Dairy Bar.  Man, it looks exactly the same.

N: That place is nasty.  I didn’t set foot in there until I was a teenager, then I turned around and walked right back out.

Me: Well, we used to eat there all the time when I was growing up.  Because it was so close to the house, I guess.  [pointing out window]  We used to live right over there.

N: [puzzled]  What?  Goddamn, how many places did you live growing up?  I thought you lived over there.  [pointing in the opposite direction]

Me: [also puzzled]  What are you talking about?  We never lived over there.  Why would you think we lived over there?

N: [indignant]  Because you told me that you lived over there.  We drove past it one day!

Me: Noooo, I don’t think so.

N: Yes!  Yes, why would I make up something like that?  You told me you lived over there!!

Me: Why would I make up something like THAT? It isn’t TRUE!!  We never lived anywhere near there!

N: I think you did.

Me: For God’s sake, man.  I may be forgetful, but I don’t think I would be wrong about the location of my childhood home!

N: Maybe you had a friend or something that lived over there?

Me: No.  No one.  At no point did I, or anyone I know, live in that neighborhood.  I just don’t have any clue where you’re coming up with this.

N: [pulling into my parents' driveway]  We’ll settle this.  I’ll ask your mother.  She’ll know.

Me: I don’t need to ask my mother.  I know!  We never lived over there!

N: I think you did.

Me: GAH!!