Filed under: General Peevery, Parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: annoying, children, drive me up the wall, funny things kids say, grating, lmnop, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeve, pet peeves, sarcastic, stranger danger, vent, what pisses off a four year old
Everyone knows Smalls has a little body and a big personality. So, what pisses off a 4 year old? You’d be surprised.
Say what you mean, already!
Smalls’ pre-K class is gathered around for circle time and they start off the activities by playing the alphabet song on the CD player.
Smalls: (sticking fingers in her ears) I am so over this song.
Teacher: Smalls, what’s the matter? Why are you sticking your fingers in your ears?
Smalls: Because, Ms. Teacher, I just don’t get it!
Teacher: What do you mean “you don’t get it,” Smalls?
Smalls: Well, I just don’t get it. Is LMNOP one letter?
Teacher: No, it’s 5 letters. (writing on board) See… L… M… N… O… P. Five letters.
Smalls: Then why do they say it LMNOP, like it’s one letter?
Teacher: Because it goes with the music of the song.
Smalls: (sticking fingers back in her ears) Well, that’s just silly. If it’s five letters, they should have made the music fit five letters!
Never underestimate a four-year-old.
Smalls and my sister-in-law are were walking to the ice cream shop in town the other night.
BabySister: Smalls, you have to hold my hand.
Smalls: Why, Aunt BabySister?
BabySister: Because, you know, there are cars on the road and there are strangers…
Smalls: If I see a stranger, I know what to do.
BabySister: You do? What’s your plan?
Smalls: Well, I would run away as fast I can and I would climb a tree and I would hang upside down like a sloth and then they wouldn’t even know what to do!
BabySister: Hmm… good plan.
Don’t try to label me.
Driving home from work on our nightly commute together, I usually ask Smalls about her day…
Peeved: So, what did you do today?
Smalls: We learned about animal doctors.
Peeved: Oh, that’s fun. Would you like to be an animal doctor when you grow up?
Smalls: No, when I grow up, I’m going to be Smalls.
Peeved: No, I mean, what do you want to do as your job when you get older, Smalls?
Smalls: Job? I don’t want to WORK!
Peeved: Well, most people have to work. If you have to work, what would you want to do.
Smalls: I want to be a colorer and a painter… NOT an “artist”!
Peeved: Well, good. Because being an artist isn’t a job anyway.
Are you there God? It’s me, Smalls.
Smalls: Mommy… God makes everything, right?
Peeved: Yes, honey, God made everything in the world.
Smalls: Then, why did God make me a human?
Peeved: Because, you were a gift to mommy and daddy and we are humans.
Smalls: But, I really wanted to be a cheetah! I didn’t ask to be a human!
Peeved: Well, I’m sorry honey. That’s how God made you.
(silence for about 3 minutes…)
Smalls: Mommy… God is in heaven, right?
Smalls: And when you say prayers, they go up to heaven, right?
Smalls: And God is supposed to hear your prayers and answer them, right?
Smalls: (tearing up and whining) Well, then, how come every night I pray that I will wake up as a cheetah and every morning I’m still a stinky human!??
Peeved: Um… (stifling laughter)
Filed under: General Peevery | Tags: annoying, christmas, drive me up the wall, grating, mother, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeve, pet peeves, regift, regifting, sarcastic, vent
Christmas is over, the goose done got fat, and you can tell which presents weren’t such a big hit by the fact that they’re still under the tree. Yes, all of my decorations are still up. Let’s just blame that on an unfortunate series of events and not my overactive lazy gland.
I learned how to re-gift from my mother. She’ll recycle just about anything. When Biggie was a baby, she pulled out the clothes from the late 70s… um, thanks mom. Another time, I was eating ravioli in what I thought was a brown sauce…
Stepbrother (let’s call him Stepdoucher – more on that another time): What are you eating?
Peeved: Ravioli in brown sauce. Mom made it for me.
Stepdoucher: Ew. I bet it tasted better last week when it was ravioli with red sauce.
Peeved: [spit, cough, choke] What??
Mom: Oh, stop. It’s fine. I re-worked it.
Last year, her and AJenda had a ridiculous re-gift exchange that went something like this: AJenda buys overpriced bowl set from one of Mom’s hairbrained catalog schemes. AJenda is pissed that she paid so much money for what she thought was a set of stacking serving bowls big enough to hold chips. Turns out, they are big enough to hold about two handfuls of peanuts and a couple of MnMs. AJenda regifts the bowls to Mom for her birthday – “I thought they would look nice in your house.” Mom, in turn, regifts the bowls to AJenda for her birthday 10 months later – “I felt bad, you ordered them and they go so nice with your house – I hardly used them.” You can imagine, this did not fly with AJenda. Come Christmas, there was a familiar looking package under the tree with Mom’s name on it. My mother, who is the queen of Christmas shopping at Big Lots and Kroger but expects her own gifts to come in small packages and sparkle, just says, “this better not be those damn bowls.”
Alas, this year, there was no reappearance of the damnbowls and Mom did a great job of picking presents.
Mom: You girls really liked your presents?
AJenda: Absolutely, the scarf is lovely.
Peeved: Yep! I liked mine, too. My favorite was the little change purse that looked like a vintage purse.
NotBonJovi: My favorite was the sweatpants! Thanks Ma!
Mom: Ha! I just want to let you know that out of all the gifts, only two are regifts… the scarf and the little purse!
Peeved: Well, your regift skills are improving! Thanks Ma!
Later that night NotBonJovi went to put on his sweatpants. They were a little short. They were a ladies XL.
For those of you that care where I’ve been for the last three weeks, it went something like this:
Dec 17 – 22: Last minute Christmas shopping and decorating the house.
Dec 23: Bieber! Smalls gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving.
Dec 25: Blessed temporary reprieve from illness and a white Christmas in the South – thank you Santa.
Dec 26: Peeved gets the gift of a stomach bug that keeps on giving. Mr. Peeved gets it, too. You know, just to keep things fun.
Dec 27 – 29: Netflix! There is a reason some movies go straight to video.
Dec 30: Sickie remnants, but must clean house and go food shopping for company coming over.
Dec 31 – Jan 2: House guests!
Jan 3 – 4: Actual work in the office. (How do I do this again?)
Jan 5 – 8: Trip to NY for Grandpa’s funeral. (Even stuffing my face with pizza and bagels couldn’t make me feel better – believe me, I tried.)
And, now, I’m home and work was cancelled today because we have a blizzard (READ: 3 inches of snow). I’m about to improvise some sleds, but thought before I do, I better take a moment to check in and give all of you your Christmas presents. It’s a regift, of course:
- When good intentions go bad
- Mission: Accomplished
- You can’t handle the truth
- So there I was…
- Revenge of the Mom
- Rollin’ in my 5.0
- How to get blood from a stone
Filed under: Consumer / Retail, General Peevery, Parenting | Tags: annoying, cereal for dinner, children, christmas, drive me up the wall, elves, grating, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeve, pet peeves, pre-teen, sarcastic, shopping, vent
I’ve been trying to wrap up all my Christmas shopping by the end of this week. I plan on spending the time off I have doing fun things around town with the kids, not last-minute running around in crowds. I HATE crowds. LOATHE crowds, actually. I also can’t stand shopping unless it involves margaritas or shoes for me. So, I’ve been doing a lot of lunch-hour power shopping and stopping in to a single store between picking up the kids and heading home. The other day, I needed to run into Macy’s for three very specific things: handbags for Smalls’ teachers. I knew exactly what I wanted. I was a woman with a coupon and a mission.
Peeved: Okay, girls, Mommy has to run into Macy’s real quick and pick up some presents for Smalls’ teachers.
Smalls: Are we getting them Zhu Zhu Pets?
Peeved: No, Smalls, I think they’d like purses better.
Smalls: Oh. Can we stick a Zhu Zhu Pet in the purse?
Peeved: No. Let’s just get them purses and then you can make a nice card for them.
Biggie: Where are we going?
Biggie: Oh, cool. I totally need skinny jeans. Macy’s has the best skinny jeans.
Peeved: We are not shopping for skinny jeans. We are going to get out of the car, go directly to the purses, select three purses, pay for them and leave. Understood?
Biggie: But the skinny jeans are right next to the door closest to the purses. I could just…
Peeved: Here’s the deal. Ready? I just need to grab these things real quick. You all need to behave because Santa is watching and if you don’t behave you’ll get coal in your stocking. Smalls, you’re in the stroller. Biggie, you’re pushing the stroller. You both stay right next to me and offer your opinions if and only when asked. I need you to be my elves tonight. We are not shopping for ourselves, we are shopping for gifts for others. Got it? Elves. Helpers.
A condensed version of the events that took place inside Macy’s on December 13th at approximately 7:03 p.m.: touch, touch, touch, drop, yell, whine, whine, whine, yell, disappear, reappear, yell, skootch, skootch, skootch the stroller, heart attack – where the hell did Smalls go?, yell, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, cheer/dance, yell, stroller derby, near fatal collision with purse rack, yell, don’t touch your sister-stand right there and don’t move-Smalls get your feet off of the stroller wheels, purchase of the closest three purses, step routine, step routine, step routine, yell, time out in the corner, whine, whine, whine, yell, touch, touch, touch…
[In the car on the way home]
Peeved: I don’t want to hear a word – A WORD! – from either one of you. Biggie, that was embarrassing and disrespectful. You are twelve years old and I had to put you in time out in the corner of Macy’s. You should be ashamed of yourself. How hard is it to stick your hands in your pockets and behave yourself for five freaking minutes? I asked you to help me. You did exactly the opposite. You think it’s okay to misbehave now because I’ve already done my shopping for you? Well, you have another thing coming. Santa doesn’t bring trampolines to kids that don’t behave. Get my drift? You need to learn to listen. I told you not to touch anything and I don’t think there was one item in that store that you didn’t leave a fingerprint on.
Smalls: Yeah, and she…
Peeved: I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Gallery!
Smalls: Yeah, well I don’t want to hear anything from the Peanut Butter Jelly Gallery!
Peeved: Oh no you don’t. I’m mad at you too. You were not wearing your listening ears. Mommy told you to sit in the stroller and what did you do? You skootched halfway across the store. I look away for one second and you’re over in Petites walking around with the stroller hanging off your butt. When we get home, it’s dinner and bed for you. No show tonight. Biggie, it’s homework and bed for you, too. Give me any lip and I’ll take away your electronics for a week.
Peeved: Here, eat your dinner.
Smalls: That’s not dinner. That’s cereal. I want dinner.
Peeved: Well, we don’t have anything in the house. And, after the way you acted in the store, I’m certainly not going food shopping with you.
Smalls: I want dinner. [lip quiver] Cereal is not dinner. [start of cry] You need to have something with bread for dinner. [full on crying, now]
Peeved: Fine! I’ll go make something out of nothing.
[in the kitchen]
Smalls: [sobbing in the other room - then... silence]
Peeved: Smalls… what are you doing?
Smalls: [in the most pathetic four-year-old voice you can imagine] Looking at a picture of you [stifled sob] … when you were happy.
Smalls: You’re with daddy… [stifled sob]... and … you’re smiling [full on crying again]
Dear Future Therapist of Biggie & Smalls,
It is all exaggerations and half-truths, I swear.
Filed under: General Peevery, Parenting | Tags: and they let you breed why?, annoying, children, department of torture, drive me up the wall, grating, mother, mother of the year, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeve, pet peeves, sarcastic, shopping, vent
I think whether parenthood is something planned or not, that most people go into it with good intentions. When people find out they are going to become parents they secretly think they are going to be the best parent ever.
Our parents? They knew nothing. I mean, they let us run around until the streetlights turned on. We would drive hours on the interstates with no seat belts and at least one sibling lying across the hump on the floor of the car. Baby teething? Slip him some whiskey. Teenager backtalking? Feed her some soap. Broke your arm? Quit crying or I’ll break the other one.
Yeah, I think most people’s’ visceral reaction to finding out they are going to have a child is, “I’m going to do it so much better than my parents did.”
So, what the heck happens?
Not too long ago, I was at the zoo with Biggie and Smalls. A lot of people had those cute little monkey leash backpacks for their children. Which, I will be honest, I’m not a huge fan of. I mean, call me old-fashioned, but I just always held my kid’s hand or strapped them in the stroller. That wasn’t my problem, though. I understand why people have them. It’s a scary thing to bring a non-verbal, squirmy toddler out to a crowded place where they could disappear in a heartbeat. I get it. I still watch my 12-year-old go to the top of the driveway to get the mail. The thing that made me literally bite my tongue was the sight of a mother dragging her toddler behind her. Pulling away like she was towing a wagon or something. Um, lady, you dropped something. Oh wait, that’s YOUR KID! Cripies! I’m thinking she didn’t see a little pink plus sign on a stick and think, “I’m going to be the best mom ever. When little Timmy gets tired at the zoo, I won’t rent him a stroller, I’ll use my super-mommy strength to drag his ass from cage to cage.”
I was getting Smalls into the car at her daycare one day and was having a conversation with a woman who had a young son (about 4 years old or so). She was complaining about how he just wouldn’t sit still and he wouldn’t stop talking and he can’t pay attention to anything for more than a few seconds. As she’s saying this, she is loading him into a carseat positioned directly in front of a 10 inch DVD screen which she promptly turns on (with her remote start button). “It’s just so difficult,” she shouts over the cries of the Wiggles, “is it possible for a four-year old to be diagnosed with ADD?” No, darling, it isn’t any more possible than diagnosing his mother with a bad case of stupidity.
See that angelic four-year-old holding on fiercely to a freshly Clorox-Wipe’d shopping cart, minding her own business, humming a song for her mommy? Okay, now see that hooligan child lying on the ground kicking over the end cap display with her feet and mopping the dirty linoleum with her hair? Okay, now see that lady halfway across the store, seemingly by herself minding her own business and shopping? Isn’t she doing a great job of ignoring the toneless WA HA WA HA WA HA fake ambulance sound emitting from the mophead? She’s not even looking around like I was to see where in the world the little critter’s mother was. Hmmm… she must be shopping for mirrors.
And the nominees for Mother of the Year are…
Filed under: General Peevery, Uncategorized, Wednesday "What the...?" | Tags: annoying, drive me up the wall, fashion victim, grating, hello kitty, inbred, internet security, jobs you can do stoned, mullet, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, parking, pet peeves, sarcastic, vent, wednesday what the, which came first home ec or family and consumer science, wtf
Yesterday was full of weird stuff I didn’t have pictures of. Today, I’ve got proof. It’s the weird, wacky, wondrous, Wednesday “What the…?” – Enjoy, folks.
1. What the… are you trying to say?
That might be hard to read, let me tell you what it says.
Is this a valid email address for you (for your protection, the email address has been partially masked)?
Um, there is no X in my email address. So, by partially masked do you mean completely obscured? WTF Your Security Levels Are So High You Even Tell Me I Got My Father’s Middle Name Wrong On The Security Questions?
2. What the… are you wearing?
Have you ever been going through old photographs and come across something that makes you go WTF? Well, here’s a classic case. Even Smalls is trying to figure out what’s going on there. I guess stereotypes have to come from somewhere. WTF Mr. I Buy My Outfits Out Of a Catalog Called DING!DING!DING!?
3. What the… is that?
I sure hope they’re paying you. WTF Hello
4. What the… kind of school do you go to?
(driving home from school yesterday)
Biggie: Aren’t you going to ask me what new Connections (this is a fancy word for electives) I got today.
Peeved: Sure, but the last 3 times I asked you, you told me you didn’t know yet and to stop asking you.
Biggie: Well, I got Music Appreciation and Family and Consumer Science.
Peeved: Family and Consumer Science? That sounds cool. What’s that? Budgets and stuff?
Biggie: No. You cook stuff and you get to carry around an egg and stuff and, like, pretend it’s a baby. It’s really cool.
Peeved: You mean you got Home Ec.
Biggie: No, it’s called Family and Consumer Science. Home Ec is, like, when they teach you budgets and stuff. They don’t call it that anymore, Mom.
Peeved: Family and Consumer Science?
Peeved: Where’s the science in it?
Biggie: Cooking is science. And, so is having babies.
Peeved: Sounds like Home Ec to me.
Why does everything have to have a fancy name now? It’s no longer English, it’s Language Arts. It’s not Gym, it’s Exercise Science. WTF Fancy Pants School – Why Don’t You Try Teaching Them How Eggs Get Fertilized Now That You’re Calling It Science?
5. What the… kind of backwater town are you from?
When wearing flip-flops with pants and no pedicure is the least offensive thing you’ve got going on, you’ve got issues. WTF Ms. I’m So Country Even My Hairdo Is Inbred?
6. What the… is wrong with you?
Some days, I wish I had one of those jobs that don’t do random drug testing. You know, like pizza delivery guy, waiter, Xfinity writer, garbage man. Either someone likes to wake and bake, or they have a sick sense of humor. WTF Is Afroman Doing As My Garbageman?
I’ve got $50 that says the owner of the gold Toyota would, in fact, jump off a bridge if all of his friends did first. WTF Doublemint Douches?
Filed under: Parenting | Tags: annoying, born yesterday, children, don't look at me when I poop, drive me up the wall, funny kids, grating, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeves, pre-teen, sarcastic, shaving accidents, smart-ass kids, vent
One only needs to look back a few posts to know how I feel about eyebrows. So, the other day when I noticed something funky going on with Biggie’s eyebrows, I had to get to the bottom of things.
Peeved: Biggie – what the heck happened to your eyebrow?
Biggie: Nothing. What are you talking about?
Peeved: That – right there. That eyebrow did not always start almost at the middle of your pupil. And, the other eyebrow doesn’t match. What did you do to your eyebrow?
Biggie: Nothing, mom. Geesh! [eyeroll, foot stomp]
Peeved: [grabbing Biggie by the chin for closer inspection] OH MY GOD! You shaved your eyebrows!?
Peeved: Well, somebody did.
Biggie: Well, I was in the shower and I was shaving my armpit and I got soap in my eye and when I went to wipe it off I accidentally shaved off part of my eyebrow.
Peeved: You ACCIDENTALLY shaved off part of your eyebrow?
Biggie: Yes! I had soap in my eye!
Peeved: Well, you are not allowed to shave anymore.
Biggie: What?! Gosh, mom! You’re the worst! [eyeroll, foot stomp]
Peeved: Obviously, you can’t be trusted to keep razor blades from accidentally coming near your eyeball. No more shaving unless you tell me the truth.
Biggie: I am telling the truth! Don’t call me a liar!
Peeved: Well, what happened to the other eyebrow?
Biggie: Well, I had to try and even them out a little bit. Am I going to be punished?
Peeved: No. I think living with those crazy eyebrows will be punishment enough for shaving them. However, you will be punished for lying.
Biggie: I’m not lying!!! It was an accident!!
Funny, when I was younger my stepmother always used to say, “Do you think I was born yesterday?” and I would wait until she walked away and whisper, “No, the day before.” She also said I’d get back everything I ever gave her. Who’s laughing now?
There are many sacrifices we make as we become parents: the ability to run around the house naked, curse loudly, sit down for an extended period of time, sleep in, and go to the bathroom alone are just a few. It’s Saturday morning, Mr. Peeved has been sick for the last few days and I have the beginning of a nasty respiratory virus. All I want to do is sleep in. Alas, 8:20 brings this conversation to my ears:
Biggie: [in the bathroom] Get out!
Smalls: I have to go!
Biggie: Well, I’m going. You can’t go. Get out!
Smalls: Biggie! I have to go!
Biggie: Smalls! I’m going to the bathroom. I need privacy. Get out!
Smalls: I don’t have to get out.
Biggie: Yes, you do. You can’t just come in the bathroom when someone is using it. I need privacy! Get out!
Smalls: I am giving you privacy.
Biggie: No, you’re not. You’re still in here. Get out of the bathroom!
Smalls: Biggie, privacy is when you don’t look at someone when they’re going to the bathroom.
Yes, Smalls, when you have a 4-year-old in the house, that’s exactly what privacy is.
My father always tells me I’m a smart-ass. I always tell him I’d rather be a smart-ass than a dumb-ass. My nephew, he doesn’t fall far from the Aunt Emma tree. At the age of three, this kid could tell you the difference between a bucket and a pail. By the time he was four, he knew what sarcasm was and had perfected his deadpan delivery. Here’s a text I received from my sister on Friday:
Filed under: General Peevery | Tags: annoying, babysitting, baked ziti, cheetah costume, children, cooking, drive me up the wall, grating, halloween, halloween costumes, katie perry, lady ga ga, making your own halloween costumes, mixed tape, nervous breakdown, parenthood, parenting, peeve, pet peeves, pre-teen, sarcastic, when animals attack
The last few days have wrought plenty by way of inspiration, but not much in the area of motivation.
I finished Smalls’ Halloween costume. Sewing is tied for third on the list of things that make me happy (food and bad reality TV being numbers 1 and 2, and the tie for third being shoe shopping). It’s mathematical, but creative at the same time, and at the end of the day you have something to look at and say, “I made that.”
That is one scary cheetah. Besides the fact that the pattern was made for Umpa Loompa and I had to take it in about 2 inches all around, it came out relatively good. It didn’t hurt that I just got a new sewing machine. An awesome new sewing machine. A sewing machine that makes me wonder what the heck I was doing wasting my time on that dinky little one I had before. Ignorance is bliss, indeed. Now, I just have a poodle skirt to finish up, a Lady GaGa (we finally found one appropriate enough for Biggie to wear), a Sonic the Hedgehog sidekick, a kitty cat, a zombie cheerleader and either a tiger or a hot dog (she just has to make up her mind – I’m voting for hot dog!). Wish me luck, I will need it.
Friday night, I spent the entire evening cleaning my house. Saturday morning, I spent the entire morning re-cleaning my house. Sigh.
Saturday I decided to host a dinner party at my house. It was a potluck, but I was making the appetizers and the main dish. And by “I” I mean me. Mr. Peeved was working. Don’t ask me what I was thinking, I won’t have an answer for you and I’ll just change the subject real fast. I figured if the Irish in me can let me get away with drinking whiskey and not getting a hangover, then the Italian in me should let me make an edible dinner. The kids and I went shopping at the farmers market. I remembered their jackets and everything. I remembered all the things on my list. I whipped together an Italian Nachos sauce, a caprese salad and a tray of baked ziti all with an hour to spare.
Are you impressed? Yeah, I was too. I was so proud of myself. Whistling away, cleaning up. What? What does that empty cheese container say? Shredded asiago? Who the heck sells shredded asiago and, puts it right next to the shredded mozzarella? Dagnabit! Back to the store for baked ziti redux.
Sunday, Biggie had her first gig as a babysitter/mother’s helper for my friend (let’s call her Brave Soul, shall we?). Biggie would like me to make a public announcement on her behalf, it goes something like this: I AM SO COOL. Anywho, she took the assignment very seriously, packing a “do bag” and getting pointers from her more seasoned friend.
Biggie: Don’t worry Brave Soul, I am so prepared. I have coloring books and a tea set and a lot of fun activities that I can do with Little Brave Soul. And, my friend, she, like, babysits all the time, and she told me all the tricks of the trade.
Brave Soul: That’s great. Little Brave Soul will love that. What did your friend teach you?
Biggie: Well, she said you just have to play whatever they want to play and make believe it is the most fun in the whole wide world even when it’s the most stupid and boring thing ever.
Brave Soul: Yep, that’s pretty much all there is to it.
There is a rule in my car that is violated at least twice a day. The rule is nobody is allowed to touch the radio until we are out of the driveway and even then, they are to ask first. Biggie can’t grasp the concept. Yesterday afternoon, we get into the car and she whips this CD out of her bag.
Biggie: Mom, can I play this? [waving it in front of me]
Peeved: What is it?
Biggie: It’s my babysitting mix. It’s all my favorite songs. You know, for when I’m babysitting.
Peeved: Biggie – it’s spelled wrong.
Biggie: No it’s not, ma. Gosh, that’s like, slang. No one puts the G on the end of ing words anymore. Can I put it in?
Peeved: Sure, I want to hear this.
[Biggie inserts CD, turns up volume and it starts playing]
Biggie: Oh. [hits disc skip to track 4]
Peeved: What are you doing? Just let it play.
Biggie: Oh, I can’t. Tracks 1, 2 and 3 aren’t appropriate for Smalls to hear.
Peeved: What? I thought this was a babysitting mix.
Biggie: It is. It’s just music I like.
Peeved: But, the first three tracks are inappropriate for your little sister? Why? What are they?
Biggie: It’s mostly Lady Ga Ga. The first one is the one with the Christmas tree and the second one is the one with the disco stick.
Peeved: I don’t think either of those are appropriate for you. What are you doing downloading these? And, what’s wrong about a Christmas tree.
Biggie: You know, when she says “light me up, put me on top, let’s fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la”.
Peeved: Give me that thing. Right. Now.
Biggie: Guess I’m not allowed to listen to it anymore…
You think? It’s bad enough Katie Perry is melting Elmo’s popsicle. Now I have to worry about the sanctity of yuletide carols.
This morning, I couldn’t find my soapbox. Which, is a shame, because apparently people have completely forgotten the art of manners. Simple things, like hold the door open for the person behind you. And, say thank you when someone holds the door open for you. And, if you see me running (or hear my heels clicking) towards the elevator, don’t pretend you can’t find the door open button. Jackknives.
Smalls: Mommy, thank you for my cheetah costume.
Peeved: You’re welcome, honey. I’m glad you like it.
Smalls: When are you going to make your costume, mommy?
Peeved: Well, Smalls, I don’t know what I want to be for Halloween yet.
Smalls: But, you need to make a gazelle costume.
Peeved: I do?
Smalls: Yeah. What am I going to eat if I don’t have a gazelle?