To The Store

The store is still a magical wonderland for SissySuperShopper.  She gets more excited about going to the store than the zoo, which is saying something.

 

You don't get to do this at the store, little girl.

Today we needed to make our monthlyish trip to Sam's Club.  "The Big Store".  She is amazingly well behaved when we go to the store.  She isn't "that kid".  You know, the whining, crying, screaming, flailing "gotta have everything I see NOW" one.  (She leaves that honor for her brother.)

This morning while we were getting ready:  

Awesomeness: Do you know where we're going today?

SissySuperShopper: THE STOOOOOOORE!

Awesomeness: Yep, the store.  What are we getting at the store.

SissySuperShopper: APPLE JUICE! OH BOY! OH BOY! APPLE JUICE!

Awesomeness: ... Okay, I guess we can get some apple juice.

SissySuperShopper: AND SOME CHIPS AND CHEEEEEEESE!

Awesomeness: ?

SissySuperShopper: YAY!YAY!YAY!YAY! Dada, are you ready to get chips and cheese?

How in the hell do you not get chips and cheese after that?

What Is That Smell?

You know any time you ever have that thought, the outcome isn't good.  It never turns out to be: "Aw!  Will ya look at that!  The kids teamed up and made me some French Toast.  They're the best kids ever."  No, when this thought first pops into my head, I know I'm in for it.  So it starts:

What is that smell?

It smells kind of mediciny.

Kind of like....diaper rash cream.

Well, that would make sense, since I did just change PeterPoopyPants.

Gosh, why is it that I can still smell this even when PPP moves away?

And why is it getting stronger and stronger by the minute?

And where is MarshaMischiefMaker?

And why is she being so quiet?

And this is where panic strikes.  Any parent can tell you of the absolute horror when your brain finally registers that your kids aren't making any noise. 

Don't worry though, it was nothing.  Just MarshaMischiefMaker painting herself and the playpen with her brother's diaper rash ointment...

I Just Don't Know

I haven't been able to (yes, yes, I'll get you some juice) write much lately and I (stop biting my arm) really don't know what the (are you okay?  where's the booboo?) problem is. 

I have (no, we don't take off our peedy diapers and put them on Mama's laptop while she's typing) plenty of time and the kids (get that basket off your brother's head!) like playing together (give your sister back her train!).

Mr. A helps keep them out of my (is it time for PerpetuallySickPetunia's medicine?) hair so I can get stuff (GET OFF THE COUNTER!!!) done.  NappyTimeNorman still takes some (SHHH! No screaming while your brother's sleeping.  Let's play in your room.) pretty good naps.

It's just so (stop using my arm as a monkey bar) amazing how lazy I've been (get off my neck, you're choking me) lately about keeping (yes, we'll watch Team Umizoomi in a minute, Mama's busy) up with my blogs.  It's, like, worse than (quit crying in my face...I said in a minute) usual lately.

Maybe (aw, do your teeth hurt little buddy?) it's because I've been (GET OUT OF THE BLINDS YOUNG LADY!) sick this last week...

I mean I feel (where's your panties?  you had them on a second ago) much better and I'm getting plenty (stop pushing the couch into your brother) of rest.  There's really nothing (PUT DOWN MAMA'S WII!) stopping me from getting anything (I hear you, I'll get you a sandwich in a minute) done.  I just need to find (do you have to go potty?) some inspiration.  I might just (NO! NOT ON THE FLOOR!  WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!!?)...

I give up.

The Guys

The invasion is upon us.

We use Pez dispensers as a cheap, non-candy reward for PeggyPezHoarder (well, as far as she knows there's no candy) for when she behaves and doesn't beg for things in the store.  Turns out, she's the best child ever (in the store), which means that we are now overrun with, what she calls, "The Guys". 

They're in her bed, in my coffee table, under the couch, in the couch, in the entertainment center, on the stairs, in the tub, on Dada's desk, on the breakfast bar, in the mop bucket, the laundry bins...