Friday, July 17, 2009

Minnie just got Flushed

So Sassy is sitting on the potty last night, waiting for the bathwater to fill and she says, Mommy, I flushed my Minnie phone down the potty yesterday. Very straight faced I say, uh huh, when yesterday? She says after dinner, I say, When was yesterday? (we've almost got the concept of 'time' down, but we're still perfecting it. Her reply, You know when we saw Mikey sitting on the steps (my mind races quickly back to seeing a friend sitting on the steps of a neighbors house trying to figure out what DAY that was LAST week). Im scrambling for a reply at this point because Im still trying to figure out if she JUST did this, or did it last NIGHT or last WEEK. Um, Ok, I say, well we dont put things in the potty and then if they HAPPEN to fall in, please dont flush. Then I have to ask, Are you fibbing? And very solemly she shakes her head no and says no Mommy and thinks she is going to get in trouble. Ok, how can I punish her if Im not even sure if she did it.

So fast forward to after bath time, and I ask Sassy if she told Daddy about what she told me about the Minnie phone (by the way this is a fake cell phone with Minnie Mouse on it), she says no and I say well tell him. She proceeds to tell Dad that she has 'dropped' her Minnie phone down the potty and then she flushed it. Well of course Dad flips out and immediatley goes and rams almost an entire roll of toilet paper down the potty thinking that he has to 'check to see if it got stuck somewhere' all the while Im thinking, yea, keep cramming the toilet paper down the toilet, THAT will flood the potty for sure! He begins to repeat back to Sassy all the rules I explained to her early about never putting things in the potty or flushing them and blah blah blah but adds the statement at the end that sends my 4 year old into hysterics "and if you DID flush something like a Minnie phone down this potty the whole house will flood and your bed will go crashing through the floor". Oh lord, did he have to say that. Now Sassy is wailing that she has ruined our house and she wont have any place to sleep and oh our poor house . . . and this just goes on.

Meanwhile Mommy is in search of the Minnie phone - for some reason my Mommy radar has gone off and Im just not really falling for all of this. . . . . .

AH HA! There is the pink Minnie phone tucked up in the second floor of the Weeble Castle.

I walk into the bathroom swinging the Minnie phone, my daughters eyes big as saucers and Dad still shoving toilet paper down the potty . . . . . .

Maybe Sassy will be a writer some day of VERY imaginative novels and make her Mommy and Daddy lots of money . . . enough to pay for LOTS of replacement toilet paper . . . . .

Oh the treasures of Motherhood

The Cowgirl and the Shrimp

So I stood in my closet this morning thinking about what to wear and with much attention to my mood and feelings I chose my oh so well fitting jeans, my brown cork sandals a tan tee shirt with a dark brown vest. After dressing I looked in the mirror and made a rare decision that I didnt look too bad. In walks my daughter . . . Good Morning Mommy . . . my reply, Good Morning Baby (she's 4, I still can get away with it). And then I hear the words that no mother likes to hear . . . Mommy you look so nice today, you look like a cowgirl. And hear I am thinking Im looking good enough to go out to a club instead of work and she picks a cowgirl? Ok, so onto the jewelry. I find some gold hoops, not too large and not too small . . . JUST right . . . . . aparently not. Mommy, I like those earrings they look like Shrimp. Shrimp . . . not EXACLTY the look I was going for with the cowgirl outfit I must admit.

So then I say to Sassy 'Well, I guess Mommy will change out of her cowgirl outfit and her shrimp earrings and go to work since your making Mommy feel like she's not dressed right'.

The priceless reply ' Silly Mommy, then youll be at work in your underwear and then everyone WILL laugh at you.

PS Did I mention I went out at lunch and bought new earrings?

Oh, the treasures of Motherhood . . . .