In case you were even considering going to Toys R Us to purchase some My Little Ponies? Don't. Even. Bother. Girl-Child bought them all with her gift cards from Christmas. Yes. Christmas. Try Target. Here they are watching
Seabiscuit a My Little Pony DVD:
And when you're at the register paying for your bounty and the cashier asks you for your phone number as part of the ring up process: DON'T DO IT! A few weeks ago I had to break down and buy Girl-Child new tap shoes at Payless. Before I knew what was happening my phone number came flying out of my mouth. Because the lady was all, "what's your phone number?" and she didn't even buy me a drink first or anything. I'm all thinking it's for some kind of security purpose regarding purchases made with a debit card, BUT NOOOOOOOO. I'm now on some automated recorded phone message system thingy (or, ARPMST). And they will call at an inconvenient time to let you know that it is BOGO at Payless. And I don't. know. how. to make it stop. BUT goddammit I was prepared when the young skater looking dude asked me for my number from behind the Toys R Us counter. I was all, "why?". And he was like, "Um, for the kjdpowjej". And I went, "you know what happens, right?". And he was all, ".....". So I'm all, "They will caalllll meeeee". And he was all, "duuuude, no. way". And I was like, "way. Those Payless bastards totally called me". And he was like, "That's messed up". And I was all, "I know, right!"...
On Sunday afternoon my sister in law dropped by for a lovely afternoon of
gossiping bonding and also so that our girls could play together. Oh. And also so that the men-folk (Boy-Child#1, Mr. Farklepants, and two of my brother's in law) could attend the Rush concert. They didn't really plan to go out on Mother's Day but the tickets were bought months ago. And without consulting a calender. Why didn't I go? Because, quite simply, I hate Rush with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. I know some of you just dropped dead I will send your family a lovely Hallmark card To me it sounds like one of the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz with a really kick ass band behind him. Eliminate the singer and I could tolerate it. So, while they were gone, we ladies enjoyed a to-go order of grilled turkey sandwiches with melted brie cheese, red onions, avocados, sweet potato fries, and an orgasm. We also shared a lemon bar, a pecan something bar that was like pecan pie only square, and a cranberry cookie. The kids ate something I don't remember what because of the afterglow.
Do you know what happens to two little girls aged 3 and 4 who don't get to see each other often enough but are the best of friends? They pee their pants. God, I wish I was kidding. The first to forget that a toilet is supposed to be involved when relieving oneself was my 3 year old niece. When she walked past us with the telltale wet spot on the back of her pants my sister in law and I spent the next 10 minutes trying to find out where the puddle in my house was. Living room carpet. Que sera sera. Worse things have happened. Then after an exhausting hour of bubble blowing outdoors, my own daughter came rushing through the house holding her crotch. Not a good sign. Also not good? Forcing her to wash the slick bubble soap off her hands before touching anything. Running water + pee-pee dance = just plain mean. That'll teach me and my OCD ways. She made it into the bathroom just in time to piss all over herself and the rug. It was all part of my master plan because I really want a new rug in there anyway. Of course, it's only pee so I COULD just wash it. And the thought of asking her to also poop on it seemed a little extreme. And gross. The end.
This stuffed hippopotamus was a gift to Girl-Child from her auntie. It is so soft and scrunchy that I want to stuff my bra with it. Girl-Child has named it "Hippo-Hippo". At four years old her creativity for names has runneth out. I expect her first born child to be named "Baby Human....Rockefeller".