How Dare You!

In the daily struggle to keep things fair and balanced, we sometimes have losing moments.  They're not all bad, though, because sometimes they turn into unexpectedly funny moments.

Mr. Awesomeness: Buddy, what do you want to watch?

Buddy: Wanna watch Wall-E!

Not Buddy: No! We watched Wall-E already.  We need to watch Tangled.

Mr. Awesomeness: Honey, I think it's Buddy's turn to watch a movie.  You got to pick a movie last time.

Not Buddy: No!  Buddy already got a turn today.

Mr. Awesomeness: (failing at reverse psychology) Well, Buddy, it looks like you don't get to take your turn because your sister is being very selfish.

Not Buddy: I AM NOT A FISH!!

Bad Liars + Batteries = Bath Time

GretaGameJunkie got a new Leapster for Christmas.  She packs that thing around with her wherever she goes.  I will say that those things are probably the best thing that ever happened to the battery industry.  I'm not sure that it keeps a charge for an entire week of play.

The point is, Mr. Awesomeness gets tired of replacing the batteries so often and will often lie to Greta about what it will entail to fix her game.  Some days he's a better liar than others.  Today, he just got real lazy.

GretaGameJunkie: Daddy, I need some batteries for my game.
Mr. Awesomeness: Um, we're out of batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: Aaaaaaaw!

Greta, heartbroken, decides to come out and complain.  I heard what her dad said, so I was ready to support his laziness.

GretaGameJunkie: Daddy said there's no more batteries for my game.
Awesomeness:  I'm very sorry that we don't have any batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: But I need them!
Awesomeness: Are those tears?
GretaGameJunkie: Yeah...I need more batteries.
Awesomeness: Are your tears turning into batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: No, Mama.  I need Daddy to get my batteries.
Awesomeness: Did Daddy say we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: Yes.  We have lots and lots of batteries.
Awesomeness: Where do we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: (immediately perking up) In the drawer, I'll go get them.
Awesomeness: (dammit!)

Sure enough.  Lots and lots of batteries just where we always keep them.  As soon as he heard that she was running after the drawer full of batteries, Mr. Awesomeness ducked out of his office.

Mr. Awesomeness: You can't just tell her there's no batteries?
Awesomeness: Dude, she fact-checked me.  Really, that was a bad lie.  Bad battery liars have to give the kids a bath tonight.

Guess who's giving the kids a bath while I'm typing out this post...

I cannot believe that worked.

His Name Is...

Every night at bedtime, we do the stuffed animal shuffle.  We allow CarrieCritterHoarder to keep 2 of them in her bed.  Before we put a limit on it, she thought 16 was a reasonable number.  So a part of our nightly routine is to determine which to of her million "favorites" will make the cut.

Last night, her first choice was The Grinch.  For her second choice, she selected a fuzzy, white bunny that she's had since she was a baby.

Carrie: Oh, my bunny!  I love my bunny!  He's my best friend.
Awesomeness: I'm glad he's your best friend.  You've had him since you were a baby.
Carrie: Yeah, his name is Pervert Manager. 
Awesomeness: .......Um, what was that honey?
Mr. Awesomeness: .......Um, did she just call her rabbit Pervert Manager?
Awesomeness: That's what I heard. Honey, what was your bunny's name again?
Carrie: His name is Pervert Manager.  Just like the bunny on Curious George.

Ooooooooh!  Okay.  In one episode of Curious George, the monkey is visiting his friend Bill, and Bill introduces George to his rabbits.  One of the rabbits is named Herbert Nininger. (Yeah, I don't get it either, but whatever.  It beats Pervert Manager.)

The Spirit of Giving

If my ultimate goal during the Christmas season is to make sure that my children understand that the holiday is all about giving, then I have succeeded.  Yesterday, my kids gave to me all day long:

8:45 a.m.: My daughter gave me an ulcer.

We had just finished unwrapping the last of our gifts when MaryChristmas suddenly announced that she needed to go downstairs now and take a nap on the couch.  She looked very pale and drained, so we took her downstairs and checked her temperature: 100.7.  Nice.  Twenty minutes later we checked her again and her temp had shot up by over a degree.

This is not only no way for a child to spend Christmas, but it's also reminiscent of last year, when she got so sick we eventually had to admit her to the hospital for two days.  We got some fever reducer in her before she fell asleep.  Two hours later, she was back up and playing with her brother.

Whew!

11:30 a.m.: My son gave me a heart attack.

The first sign of trouble was the universal kid-in-distress signal: he was being very quiet.  All of a sudden, Mr. Awesomeness yells, "What is he choking on?!"  We run over to him and he starts fighting us.  The kid can't breathe, but he doesn't want to give up whatever is in his mouth.  At this point, we did what any caring parent would, we forcefully pinned his ass down.  This is when we fish about a lb. of blue foamy stuff out of his mouth.  Well, where the hell did that come from?  We don't buy our kids foam anything, specifically because they try to eat everything.

Then I notice this little blue bouncy ball I got for him as a stocking stuffer.  The ball that I thought was made of either plastic or a hard rubber.  Apparently not, as it had a huge bite taken out of it. Ugh.

8:05 p.m.: My son gave me a shower.

The night was winding down and we thought it was ending well.  MaryChristmas was maintaining a good normal temperature and ChokeyCharlie hadn't tried to eat any of his other presents.  Less than an hour to go until bedtime.  We've almost made it....

ChokeyCharlie started to cry.  This was not unexpected because he missed his nap time this afternoon.

Awesomeness: What's the matter, buddy, are you sleepy?  You should have taken a na.....
ChokeyCharlie: BBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!

I'm guessing that, by the time he was done, I had about half a gallon mixture of apple juice, water, milk, raisins, crackers, chips, turkey, bread and chocolate all down the front of me.

How did he know I've had that on my list for years and years?

Hold Still

Tonight I cut my thumb while preparing dinner.  Preparing dinner is something I don't do often, because cutting my thumb -- or any other finger -- is not a rare occurrence with me.  I quickly washed it off and got a Band-Aid.  Mr. Awesomeness decided this was the point where he needed to step in and take over the cooking duties (seriously, works like a charm every time ladies) and I left the kitchen to nurse my life-threatening wound.

Never fear, though, DoctorDottie came to my rescue!

Dottie: Hold still, Mama.  Hold still.
Awesomeness: What do you need?
Dottie: You need to hold still.  You hurt yourself.  You need to stop moving.
Awesomeness: (actually holding still -- and I thought Mr. A was a sucker) Okay, I'm holding still.  Now what?
Dottie: *poke*

Poked me right in my damn wound.  Yeah.  Cleared it right up.  Thanks Doc.

Occupational Aptitude

On the way home today, I was starting to think that DollyDrivingDirector was showing a natural talent for driving instruction:

DDD: You need get over now daddy.

Mr. Awesomeness: What?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: What did you say?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: I think she was talking crap about my driving.

Awesomeness: Thank you for being Dada's driving coach.

DDD: You're welcome mama.

Mr. Awesomeness: I don't think we need to encourage that.

Later on in the commute, however, I started questioning her judgement.  There came a time when someone in a car ahead of us stopped.  I don't know why, possibly to smell the roses.  Maybe to make new friends.  There was nothing blocking his way, so it's really a mystery.  Anyway:

Brakes: SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

DDD: That was too close Daddy!

Mr. Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that was too close.

DDD: We need to jump out of the car.

Good Night Moon

Last Christmas, BedtimeBetty's dad gave her the moon.  A Moon In My Room, anyway.  Even after a year, she's still excited about her moon and spends time every night clicking it to whichever phase makes her most happy.  Last night her moon -- and her heart -- broke.

BedtimeBetty: I want my moooooooon! 
Awesomeness: Aw, don't cry baby, you can see your moon tomorrow.
Mr. Awesomeness: Your moon is broken honey.  We need to fix it.
BedtimeBetty: You fix my moon please? 
Mr. Awesomeness: We can't fix it right now, we need to go to the store to fix your moon.
Awesomeness: The store is closed right now, baby girl.
Mr. Awesomeness: And it's on fire.
Awesomeness: And it's been abducted by aliens.
Mr. Awesomeness: Don't worry honey.  Tomorrow the aliens will return the store and put out the fire.  Ni' night.

We checked this morning and sure enough, the store is exactly where it should be.  It's also not on fire.

Quotes From The Week

This last week I've been on vacation.  That means I've spent most of my waking moments with my destructive, back-talking maniacs sweet angel children. Here are my favorite quotes from the week courtesy of WandaWordsmith:

Tuesday:

We took her in for a speech evaluation (finally, I know) where she was walked through a series of pictures and she was asked to discern whether the pictured item was a food or a toy.  She did spectacularly; she only missed one:

[Orange]
Wanda: It's a toy.
SpeechEvaluator: No, that one's an orange.  It's a food...
Wanda: No, orange is a toy.  It's for juggling.

Wednesday:

When I opened her door in the morning, I noticed that she was clutching her blanket.  A guilty expression crossed her face for a split second, then she hands it to me.

Wanda: It's wet Mama.
Awesomeness: *drops the blanket to the floor* How did it get wet?  Did you peepee your bed?
Wanda: NO!!  I NOT PEEPEE!!!
Awesomeness: How did it get wet then?
Wanda: You see my woody?
Awesomeness: ?!
Awesomeness: ...
Awesomeness: *finally understands...gimme a break, it was 5:30 in the morning* You're missing your Cowboy Woody doll?
Wanda: Yeah.
Awesomeness: Does that have something to do with why your blanket is wet?
Wanda: Yeah.
Awesomeness: Are you saying that Woody peepeed your blanket?
Wanda: Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah....

Thursday:

She was having...health issues.  For the sake of sparing you all, I will insinuate only that a) yes, indeed, the word "explosive" can be applied to her...health issue when it appears on every square inch of the bathroom b) it took 1/2 a container of Clorox wipes to get my bathroom right again c) it took a half hour long shower for me to feel clean again after wiping it all up d) I still won't walk barefoot across the floor. Bleh!

While the massive clean up effort was going on I asked her to wait for me in the bathtub, because she was going to get hosed down next.  She kept trying to get out and finally I'd had enough:

Awesomeness: You stay in that bathtub and don't try to get out again, young lady!
Wanda: No!!  I not a lady anymore!
Awesomeness: *looked down at the 5 more gallons of...health issues...I still needed to clean up* Yeah.  I would say that's pretty accurate right now.

Friday:

Mr. A and I were just discussing the pleasant prospect of dealing with a no nap baby for the next 5 hours.  The kid got up late, he's eaten like a shark all day and has been running around playing like a normal kid (for once...).

Mr. A: Still no nap, huh?
Awesomeness: No.  You know he'll pull that dick move where he wants to nap 2 hours before bedtime.
Mr. A: Should be fun!
Mr. A (to NoNapNorman): You will stay awake until bedtime, child!
Wanda: You calm down now, Daddy.
Mr. A: ...
Mr. A: I'm just going to walk away.

Survival 101

CaveBabyCalvin doesn't talk.  He's just over a month away from his second birthday and he just grunts and cries when he wants something.  We're trying not to freak out too much about it, because his sister was pretty much the same way.

We're working with him though.  So far: we read to him, we name everything he touches, but we have also put together a collection of pictures in different categories so we can show them on our TV to CaveBaby.  He, like most kids, will pay attention to anything on the TV.

The bigger of the folders is for animals.  What kid doesn't like animals?  It turns into a family event, where even AnnieAnimalLover gets involved.  We're then able to bring up a picture and name the animal for Calvin and then discuss other facts about the animals with Annie.

Camel, buddy!  That's a camel.  He lives in the desert, Annie.

 And so on.  For whatever reason, Mr. A decided to turn tonight's picture show into an episode of Survivorman For Babies.  Then I had to be a smartass and it turned into an episode of When Good Kids Go Bad.  Here's how that played out:

Mr. A: Look! A snake!  Ssssssnake.  Annie, what do you do when you see a snake?

Annie: I dunno Daddy.

Mr. A: You run away.  You always run away from a snake.  A snake will bite you and you'll get hurt.

Annie: A snake is very ouchie.

Mr. A: That's right, so when you see a snake, you run away.

Mr. A: Spi-der.  Spi-der.  You also run away from a spider, Annie.  Run away and tell daddy when you see a spider.

Annie:  I run away from the spider.

Mr. A: Fla-min-go.  That's a flamingo.

Awesomeness: When you see a flamingo, you run away.  Flamingos are dangerous.

Annie: Oh no!  Flamingos!  I run away from flamingos.

Mr. A: *Shoots me a dirty look.*  Really?

Awesomeness: Look at them.  They're pink because they're bathed in blood. (blah, blah, blah ... because they eat shrimp ... that's not nearly as funny)

Annie: Flamingo is very ouchie.

Mr. A: That's a seahorse.  Sea-horse.

Annie: I luvva seahorse!

Mr. A: Great!  When you see a seahorse, you put a saddle on him and take him for a ride.

Awesomeness: Mine was funnier.

Mr. A: ...I think that's a monkey.

Awesomeness: It's clearly a lemur.  Look at that pizazz!  He obviously likes to move it, move it.

Mr. A: He looks like he's saying, "What's up motherfucker?!"

Awesomeness: He's saying, "I'm on the deck with my boys motherfucker."

Annie: Yeah motherfutter.

Mr. A: .... um

Awesomeness: Next picture please.

Future Therapy Sessions

Yep.  My kids are going to need some therapy when we get done with them.  Today's reason:

Every once in a while, PeggyPeePeePants will get too involved in whatever she's doing and forget to go to the bathroom until the last minute.  A year ago, we let her slide on that.  She'd just gotten the hang of going on the toilet, so we figured she needed a break.  Now, however, she's 4 years old.  She's been potty trained for well over a year now.  There's no excuse for it.

Slowly over the last year it became obvious to us that this problem wasn't resolving itself so we needed to step in.  Behaviorists we read up on had us reward her for going on the potty.  To that, I'll say, "That's not for my kid."  It just doesn't work.  We tried stickers, treats, stickers and treats, fake tattoos, extra computer time.  All sorts of fun things.  We were consistent with each reward and gave each one more than enough time to work.  Nothing.

This isn't to say that she doesn't go on the toilet the majority of the time.  She just has bad days.  Days where she goes through, on average, six pairs of underpants because she started going on her way to the toilet.  It's frustrating for her and frustrating for us.  So, when rewarding didn't work out, we tried punishment.

Time out.  STRIKE ONE.  Spanking.  STRIKE TWO. Grounding from cartoons/computer games/coloring and other enjoyable passtimes.  STRIKE THREE.  YEEEEEEER OUT!

Regrouping ... Thinking ...

Stand in the corner.  STRIKE ONE.  Make her wear her dirty panties.  EJECTED FROM THE GAME EARLY ON.  Well, shit...

Make her wear her daddy's clothes?  HOMERUN!!

This morning she peed her panties, then somehow got her dress in the toilet.  I didn't have another outfit downstairs and I wasn't about to run upstairs for another one, so I just grabbed one of her daddy's t-shirts and slapped it on her.  Listening to her carry on about it, you would think I stuck a rotting skunk carcass on the kid (you'll know I'm desperate when I actually do this).

PPPP: I don't wanna wear this.  This not a dress.  It's daddy's.
Awesomeness: Well, that's too bad honey.  You shouldn't have put your dress in the toilet.
PPPP: I wanna wear my clothes. PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE Mama!
Awesomeness: I'll put your clothes on you when you stop sticking them in the toilet.  Until then you get to wear your daddy's shirt.
PPPP: I WANT MY CLOTHES NOW MAMA!
Awesomeness: Really?  Let's go show your daddy your new dress and see if he likes it.

I take her by her arm and lead her down the hallway to Mr. A's office.
PPPP: NO!  Dada, don't look at me!

She curls up in a little ball in the corner of the hallway to avoid being seen.

Mr. A: Huh.  She used to like wearing my shirts.
Awesomeness: Yeah, not so much anymore.  Now she's totally embarrassed to be seen in your stuff, dude.
Mr. A: I wonder if we could get her school to cooperate with her new dress code.
Awesomeness: It would probably be harder for them to keep it on her.  We could make her a special dress.  An ugly, gray one with a big red 'P' on the chest.  You know, for Pants Pisser.
Mr. A: I don't think she'd understand.  It would have to be something she doesn't like.
Awesomeness: She doesn't like meat.  We could just hang a steak around her neck.

I wonder how much therapy will cost in the year 2024...

Best Daddy Ever

Mr. A and DrummerDaisy were sitting on the couch earlier today.  Daisy was playing a toy drum that sings in Spanish.   After about 5 minutes of listening to it, Mr. A got annoyed and switched her drum to English.

Mr. A:  Maybe the drum should sing in English for a while.  You already know more Spanish than me, kid.

Daisy: Hey, you switch my drum!

Mr. A: Yep, because I'm the best daddy ever.

Daisy: Best daddy ever?

Mr. A: Yeah, the best daddy ever!

Daisy: .....

Mr. A: Well, I'm your best daddy ever.

Daisy: Yeah, you're my daddy...

Punked by a 4-year old.  It was sad to watch.

Do The Dew!

Mr. A was in the kitchen earlier this evening, fixing dinner and chatting with me, when it occurs to him that he left the door to the office open.

The office, A.K.A. the Room of Doom is now infested by GilbertGrabbyHands.  This occurs to Mr. A very suddenly and he runs, frantically, for the room.  Two seconds later, I hear:

Oh yeah!  That's just fucking awesome. 

This isn't good.  Before I could yell out to get the story, Mr. A comes strolling in carrying GGHands by his arms.

?

Can you take him and change him?  He has a diaper full of Mountain Dew.

 Apparently GilbertGrabbyHands sat down in his Dada's computer chair and dumped Dada's fresh Mountain Dew all over himself.

Yeah, Mr. A, that is pretty fucking awesome.

Thanks For An Interesting Evening

ClarenceCribClimber:

Bottle Break 2010 was a success.  He hasn't had a bottle for almost 2 weeks now.  Nap time is a little hard on him, but he's been managing just fine.  Bedtime is the worst.  He still cries for up to 5 minutes when I put him to bed.  He does go to sleep though.

Until last night.  We went up to bed around 9:15.  He started crying; I walked away.

15 minutes later: still crying.
30 minutes later: still crying.
1 hour later: still crying.

I figured he has got to be close to crying himself to sleep by now...When all of a sudden, I hear his little voice.  Giggling.  From the stairwell.  This one:

The one that has lots of glass for him to smash his head into.  He made it all the way to the first landing (seen at the top of the picture) before I got to him.

While I was impressed that he made it down 4 steps without falling and breaking his neck, it didn't alleviate my my heart attack.

Apparently, he decided he was done with his bed and he wanted to come down to see us.

PriscillaPuker

This one wasn't too much of a shocker.  All day long, this kid has had gas that smelled like road kill.  We knew something along her digestive tract was bothering her, but she said her stomach felt fine.

Around 11:30, I woke up to her cries.  When I made my way over to her room, Mr. A was already there.  So was about a gallon of puke.

Family camp out on the couches.

Awesome.

Oh, except that ClarenceCribClimber can now get out of his crib and terrorize the house at will.

Sorry Mr. A, you're on your own.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................

Dada: The Hero

Dada!  I wanna go ni-ni now!

Her Dada's response:

Sweetie, you can go ni-ni in about 10 minutes.  Dada has to kill all of these monsters here to help save the Earth.

Psssst...dude, you're playing WoW.  I'm sure it doesn't even take place on the Earth.

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?

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.

Overheard Around The House

MumbleMouthMartha: *mumblemumblemumble*

Mr. Awesomeness: Speak up baby, I cant hear you.

Mumbler: Want some apple juice.

Mr. A: I can get you some apple juice in just a minute.

Mumbler: *whiiiiiiiine!*

Mr. A: Do you see this guy?  I'm going to kill this guy, then I'll get you some juice.  Okay?

Mumbler: Okay...





For the record, Mr. A plays W.O.W. and was talking about killing a cartoon character.  I'm not sure I should have to disclaim that, but you never know when a body's going to show up unexpectedly.

The Color Of Water

AbbyBlabby started out with a bit of a language delay.  At close to 3 1/2, she will now speak to us in full sentences, but her pronunciation still needs a lot of work.  We try to help her out as best we can by continually challenging her to talk and interact with us. 

One constant exercise is to ask her to tell us the shapes and colors of things and to count them, if applicable.  On the way home from preschool, for instance, she was able to tell me that she had colored 3 triangle-shaped mice in orange, green and purple.

Today, Mr. Awesomeness was in the kitchen with her when she was begging like an orphan for food.  She has a bad habit of tugging on the refrigerator door.  So Mr. A, in keeping with tradition, asks her what color the fridge is.  "Black!" she says. 

Then she tells her Dada, "I want water."  This time, Mr. A asks her, "What color is water?"  He asked in a way that told me he was feeling a little smug about his trick question.

Her immediate response: "Brown."

Time to change the R.O. filter.

Boiling Lake Of Lava

That's what Mr.FloorSleeper's crib has turned into.  Well, to listen to his cries for help when I lay him down, one would have to draw that conclusion anyway.  The last week or so, I've been spending night after neck-creaking night on my couch while he sleeps peacefully on the living room floor.

Here are our options:

1. Move my bed downstairs into the living room.  I miss it and I'm not opposed to the labor involved so much as the style and function of having a bed where your couch used to be.
2. Take his crib out of my room and just toss the living room rug up there.  Well, then where to put the crib....?  Next.
3. Stand my ground and force him to cry it out in his crib.  This is more of a non-option.  There are 3 other people in the house that don't deserve to also have sleepless nights.  I also don't have the patience to endure the cry-it-out method.  I view it as avoidance and I'm more of an active fixer.
4. Change his mattress.  We've had these issues before and I thought about doing that, but never got around to it.  His sister's mattress looks awfully comfy and she would sleep on the kitchen table if we let her.  Definitely an option.
   
5. Tell Mr. A. that his shift on the couch has started.  He doesn't like our bed anyway because the mattress is too firm.  Well, buddy, how would you like to spend your nights on a soft, squishy couch instead?  Sounds good to me anyway.
   

The Burger Kingdom

We were having a particularly rough day and Mr. A decided that dinner at Burger King would lift our spirits.  We announce to FrannyFrenchFryFiend that we were going to take her to Burger King.  She got unusually excited and we couldn't figure out why.  So we asked her:

Mr. A.: Baby girl, do you know where we're going?

FFFF:  Going to the BURGER KINGDOM!!!!!

Mr. A.: ............

AwesomeMom:  We're going to Burger King, sweetie.  Do you know what we get at Burger King?

FFFF:  Yeah, yeah, yeah!  Going to the BURGER KINGDOM!!!!!

Awe. Mom:  ..............

Okay, so we watch a lot of Blue's Clues here and, on a couple of the videos, they go to the Numbers Kingdom and whatnot.  She seems to understand the connection that kings live in a kingdom.  Both Mr. A and I were reasonably concerned that she was going to be disappointed thinking that she's going to some magical fantasy place.  I mean, we weren't even going in, just through the drive-thru.  So we wanted to know what she expected to happen when we left the house.

Awe. Mom:  Honey, do you know what we get at the Burger Kingdom?

FFFF:  The KING!  The KING!

Awe. Mom:  ...............

Mr. A.:  ...............

Awe. Mom: They have french fries at the Burger Kingdom.  Do you want fries?

FFFF:  No!!  The KING!  The KING!

I mean, what do you say to that?  My little princess was going to the Burger Kingdom to get the king.  Not something that I thought I'd be dealing with.

On the way in, we were playfully chatting about what sort of stuff a little girl would find at a Burger Kingdom.  The conversation then turned to what would happen if we got pulled over on our way to the Burger Kingdom, because we didn't bother to get dressed.  We weren't naked or anything, but we didn't want anyone shining a flashlight on our respective wardrobes of choice.

So we were doing what we do best and making up the dialogue we would have with the cops.  Mr. A. apparently thinks that the officers where we live are assholes, because he kept punctuating everything "the cop" said with a loud, snotty "PAL!!"

It didn't take long for FrannyFFF to catch on and run with it.  On the way to the Burger Kingdom, after every sentence we said, she would pipe in with "PAL!"  It was cute, however she was carrying on little too much with it, as little kids normally do.  So we asked her to hush it a little.

We get to the drive through and I could tell that FFFF was confused.  There was no castle.  No king or even a princess.  No dragons.  Just french fries.  What a let-down.  We order our food, but the employee kept cutting us off after every food item we mentioned and we were getting frustrated.  The last item we were getting was a large french fry to share.

Burger King employee:  Would you like anything else?

Mr. A.:  Yeah, just a large fries.

FFFF:  PAL!!