Socks In The Snack Jar

 Snack jar


 

This is what happened when I told a certain 6-year-old to put her dirty socks in the utility room.

Would it be too much to actually walk to the other END of the utility room to the dirty clothes hamper?

Filed under WTH. See also, Kids Are Weird.

p.s. Nashville area friends, I’m giving away three family 4-packs of tickets to the upcoming Ringling Bros. And Barnum & Bailey Circus at Bridgestone Arena on my blog Facebook page. Look for the giveaway post there tomorrow!

Crackalackin’, Booty Shakin’, Hot

The girls turned into absolute slack-jawed DVD hypnotized zombies during our recent 8-hour roadtrip to Florida. Since we returned late Saturday I’ve slowly weaned them from the movie and TV crack, in fact I was so mean as to forbid any TV Sunday except for Extreme Home Makeover that night, which Miss C loves (Seriously, Ty Pennington? She’s a groupie!) and zero TV on Monday and Tuesday. I caved on Wednesday because the hubby worked late. A mama has to do what a mama has to do and in moments of solo parenting I rely on a little Sponge Bob, ok a LOT of Sponge Bob, and a Big Gulp glass of wine.

One of the DVDs we packed for the trip was HOT,” she corrected me.

What is she now, 16?

(Uh, OK. Uh, yeah. Uh, NO. Danger Will Robinson. Definitely not a phrase I want my 6-year-old latching on to.)

“Well I think you look cute. Where have you heard someone say they look hot? I’m not sure that’s something we should say. It doesn’t sound that nice.”

“It’s OK mommy, it’s from Filed Under: My Girls, Parenting 5 Comments

From The Ted Nugent Parenting Handbook

Edited to add: OK dumb blonde alert. My husband just read this and was mortified that I’d said he told the girls an animal had killed the deer. So I’ll set the record straight. He told the girls that a coyote or fox had probably been nearby, not a wolf (apparently we don’t have wolves in Tennessee…who KNEW! I mean I only grew up here…) since they found some reddish gray fur near the deer. But he never told them that an animal had killed the deer. He just never brought up the subject of how the deer died. I’ll blame my poor retelling of the story on holiday brain, but Miss A did want the deer bones as a souvenir. THAT part I got right, dammit.

We had a lovely Christmas but by Sunday afternoon I felt the need to escape from Alcatraz, I mean home, as it had turned into a disco, High School Musical, Barbie, My Little Pony, dollhouse love-in and even the dogs were starting to look at me like, “Can you please restore boredom and order to this house so we can resume or leisurely grooming and squirrel gazing?”

I hadn’t been out really since Christmas morning, unless you count a quick trip to the grocery store on the day after Christmas. I met my brother and sister at the movies to see Slumdog Millionaire (which I highly recommend) and while I was out the hubby took the girls for a big nature walk at Edwin Warner Park. They wandered upon a partial deer skeleton, which was just the skeleton from the torso down. Had it not been for the hooves still intact with a bit of deer hair (sorry for the graphic visual), the girls probably wouldn’t have known it used to be a deer.

The hubby got a shot of the deer skeleton on our video camera and used the stumbling upon dead wildlife incident as his own little Nova episode to teach the girls about nature and predators and told them that a wolf had probably killed the deer for its supper. Although Miss C was a little scared of the skeleton, Miss A was completely fascinated with the deer skeleton and wanted to bring it home.

Later that night as the hubby was tucking Miss A into bed, he asked her what her favorite part of the day was and she shouted back, “The dead deer Daddy!!”

Yeah, your little girl finds a soft little puppy and wants to bring it home…mine is enamored with dead deer bones.

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