I was indirectly tagged for the “8 Random Things” meme by Manda a couple of weeks ago, and decided to save it for when there was absolutely nothing else to report.
That day has come. More to the point, any post that I write today is bound to be random, so it may as well be the theme.
- I have a terrible time committing to a “favorite” anything. Groups of favorites? Sure. But ONE? Please don’t ever send me one of those list-of-favorite-things-chain-letter things. I’ll agonize over it far longer than a normal person, trying very hard to play along, before eventually deleting it.
- Every few years, I grow my hair out super long in the hopes that it’ll fall in thick beautiful waves like Sonia Braga. Unfortunately, it always ends up looking more like “Witch Hazel” from the Bugs Bunny cartoons. I’ve officially given up on this dream (I think.)
- I still haven’t gotten over the humiliation of having been eliminated in the first round of the city-wide 5th grade spelling bee. Seeing as how that was 23 years ago, I suspect I never will.
- There are few things in this world that bring me as much instant comfort as buttered sourdough toast.
- I used to become instantly exhausted whenever my mom would drag me into a quilt fabric store; I could not stop yawning from the second we walked through the door until we made it back to the car. My, how things have changed.
- My brain is crammed full of song lyrics, so much so that I sometimes forget really important things, such as my own phone number.
- That having been said, I avoid looking at any series of numbers for too long unless I want them locked up there with the songs. Don’t take that to mean that I’m any good at math; I assure you I am not.
- I’ve always had great admiration for bilingual people. One of these days, I’m determined to join their ranks.
Well, we enjoyed three wonderful rain-free days, but it looks like our respite is over. Luckily, we got our swimming in yesterday so I don’t have to feel as sorry for the little cooped-up lad today. It’s amazing how much guilt they can heap on at such a young age. My boy has taken to saving me the trouble of refusing him by having the whole conversation by himself: “Mama, playing? [takes my hand to pull me off of the couch] Okay…o-kay“. You’ll note the emphasis on the last “okay”, which you should interpret as the resigned agreement of the reluctant mother in this little skit of his. Oh, like he gets refused so much! Still, works like a charm because it makes me feel terrible. I mean, he had to pick that up somewhere. *ahem* He’s also become the master of the preemptive “good job!”. As in: picking up one of his toys, clapping his hands and giving himself an atta-boy so that he can get back to running around, or throwing his sand toys into the fern gully next to the deck so that good ol’ Mom can fish them out. The minute he sees the stony look on my face, he’s all smiles and applause. “Oh, good job!” [Translation: “How can you scold me when I so clearly believe I’m helping?”] I have to constantly guard against being swayed by his charms, which is really hard. Even at his worst, he makes me laugh, but I don’t want to be responsible for turning that kind of kid out into the world. You know what I mean. If you work with kids in any capacity, you surely know what I mean.
Speaking of The Boy, why is he wide awake at 7 a.m.? Why is his little no-nap-yesterday self not still asleep? The real question should be: why am I even surprised?
Off to see what hi-jinks my little buddy has in store for me today.