I Better Write That Down

Here's a memory from about 14 years ago. Wonder Woman provided daycare for grandkids and a couple other non-related kids. One morning she was driving Holla to pre-school. It happened to be show-and-tell day. Holla was bringing a souvenir I gave her from one of my trips. Wonder Woman was trying to help Holla say, "El Salvador" in order to be ready for her show-and-tell. After much effort and some frustration, Holla informed Wonder Woman that she would "just say China".

Email from my mom:  A conversation [Precious Gem] and I had today. Precious Gem:  So Grandma, is my Dad my real Dad or my Step-Dad? Me: He's your real Dad. Precious Gem:  So who's my Step-Dad? Me: You don't have a Step-Dad. Precious Gem: Why not? Then I attempted to explain what it means to have a Step-Dad the best I could so she could understand. After all this she says, "Well [friend] has a real Dad and a Step-Dad." I then tried to explain why she does.  She is too much!

From my Facebook memories feed for today: "...this may very well be the best part of any email her dad has EVER sent her, 'Your [Wonder Woman] is now laughing so hard she is peeing her pants once I showed her her various mispellings{sic}*, etc. She is now in the bathroom.'" *Looks like he had one of his own.

Friend's Facebook post: "Me: Why don't you take everything I say seriously? 8yo: Because it's usually stupid or dangerous. #truestory #valid"

Precious Gem is in pre-K and the class is working on phone #, home address, city and state. Scrubs was working with her and asked her where she lived. Her answer, "In my home".

"Food poisoning: It comes out of nowhere. Then it comes out of everywhere." - The Hubby's Facebook post upon my suffering from food poisoning

The Hubby (while giving extended belly rubs): I love you, Buddy! The Doggie: What is "love"? The Hubby: Hmm... It's caring about someone a whole lot. It's being really happy that someone is in your life. The Doggie: Oh. Like how I feel about Ball. The Hubby: Well, yeah, I guess. And I'm sure you love, uh, me... The Doggie: Hmm... The Hubby: I mean, you lick me a lot. I thought... The Doggie: I lick you because your sweat tastes like ham. The Hubby: ...Oh. The Doggie: But I love ham. If that helps. The Hubby: I'll take it. As I scratch at [The Doggie's] side, he rolls onto his back, exposing his belly in an obvious invitation to rub it. The Hubby: You're a belly slut. You give it up for nothin'! The Doggie: Have you ever had your belly rubbed? The Hubby: Well, uh... no. The Doggie: That's what I thought. Don't talk about things you don't understand, virgin.