Saturday, August 18, 2007

The Weekly Wonderings #23


1. Ever since we’ve wandered through a cemetery (or two), the youngest has been under the impression that any plaque on the ground or near the ground signifies someone is buried there. We’ve tried to dispel this thought, but he won’t go with it. At the Oakland Zoo, there’s a plaque at the tiger exhibit saluting the folks who contributed to creating it. His take on it? The tiger ate six people, who are buried right next to the tiger’s area.

2. The youngest is going to have five kids when he grows up, all boys. He even has their names picked out: Spiderman, Superman, Batman, James Bond, and Davie.

3. Constantly yelling at the youngest kids to stay abreast of us while they’re in the ocean. Finally, after the tenth time of telling them to stay near us, the youngest asks, “But why do you keep moving?” Now there’s a kid who doesn’t understand currents.

4. Pete is telling the girl about the oldest living woman dying. Her question? “What time did she die?”

5. The kids are acting like maniacs at the beach, screaming and shouting as they dart in and out of the surf. I tell them to be quiet. Pete looks at me and says, “Are you concerned that people won’t hear the roar of the surf?” Okay, so they’re not that loud. I really am a hard one.

6. I’ve got a new diet to suggest: we can only eat what the kids don’t finish. No cheating, though, by super-sizing their portions.

7. Heading to the KOA pool to rinse the sand from the beach off us, I say to the daughter, “Try to ‘drop’ your shoes in the pool so they get rinsed off.” She does so, and I say, “Oh, dear, you’ve dropped you shoes in.” She says, quite loudly, “You told me to!”

8. Pete is telling us that wonder mutt ate the couch in the “Xbox room.” The youngest’s response? “The whole thing?!!”

9. “You will attend an unusual party and meet someone important” is written on my sister’s fortune cookie message. “Steven Seagal” the eldest asks?

10. Here’s another death-related item. I sometimes think my dog has a death wish. She’s taken to dropping the ball right in the middle of the street. Now, granted, I cross the street when it’s safe to do so. But having to stop and get the drooled-upon, dirty, disgusting ball? I don’t know that I’m giving us enough time to cross if I have to add that task to the crossing. And I suspect she knows that. I’d best be keeping an eye on her.

1 comment:

Jeni said...

Kids! Sometimes it is a miracle that we make it through to enjoy their older years, ya know.
Just wondering here - have you ever seen the video "Cosby, Himself?" It's the one where he does the routine about talking to kids and how we tend to repeat things to them - "Come Here! Come here, come here, come here!" Or, "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!" To me, it was always so comforting to know that I was not alone in the struggle to make myself understood.

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