Friday, September 09, 2011

Keep a Better Eye on My Kids

"Hey blog."
"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in."
"I know, it's been a while, but I've been busy."
"So busy you couldn't write on me?"
"Busy writing every place else except here?"
"Sadly, yes."
"I see. I'm your oldest piece of work and now that there are shiny, new places to write, you don't like to write here."
"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, you are a piece of work."
"I see what you did there, and I don't appreciate it. Your mother makes bad puns for jokes, don't go skipping down that path."
"It's inevitable that I become her, I might as well embrace puns."
"You'll embrace no such thing. Anyway, what do you want?"
"Can't a girl sling a few phrases together to say 'Hi!'"
"I suppose that's possible, but that's never enough for you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know perfectly well that you use seven words when three will do, and ten penny words at that. Do you really expect that people reading your blog will read it with open in the next tab?"
"I don't consciously pick big words, this really is my vocabulary."
"It's annoying. And pretentious."
"You're pretentious."
"I'm a personification of a weblog, hardly grounds for pretension. But let's get down to business."
"Remember how I'm bad at supervising my children?"
"Why, yes! As that anonymous commenter very helpfully informed you! Thanks for turning back on the anonymous comments, by the way, because it always ends so well for me."
"Well, while I was feeding the baby and also maybe working, this happened:"

"Are those books?"
"Yes. It's the lower half of my library laid out end-to-end in a large circle through my living room, dining room, kitchen, family room, and the foyer."
"It's almost like an installation piece!"
"And he did it while completely naked, so I really do think I was experiencing a visceral, deep social commentary on the modern condition."
"He's clearly a genius."
"Clearly. Less genius was what happened a couple months ago..."

"Wait, is that..."

"Yes, a bucket of flour with a half-naked 4YO stuck inside it."
" he...a shirt...what did you do with the flour?"
"I threw it away. After I made them some pancakes. No need to be wasteful."
"That's disgusting. Anonymous commeters back me up on this one: you really should keep a better eye on your children."
"But if I keep a better eye on them, what will I blog about?"
"Bait. Nice."


Britty said...

Oh my gosh, I LOVE that picture. That is worth a million words. Life with boys. Best part, that he actually got stuck.

La Carter said...

Sometimes, the best way to learn the things you aren't supposed to do is is indeed by trying to do it in the first place. How else would he have found out that a five gallon bucket of flour is more suited for the 3 and under crowd? Clearly, he has figured out that book trailing is more appropriate for a 4-year old. (Which in my book makes his a genius)

sarah k. said...

The Yellow Book Road is awesome.

My mom once came to investigate the eerie silence when I was about 2 and my older brother 3. In the kitchen, we had found the sugar, and were dumping scoops of sugar down our footie pajamas. She picked us up by our feet and shook.

wendysue said...

I have to know. . .is E.G. rolled up in the other curtain pretending not to know what just happened?

AzĂșcar said...

These days EG is COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his brother would DO SUCH THINGS.

Oh, oh the irony.

Delirious said...

Oh my gosh, you are channeling my younger years. I have a video of one of my children totally covered in dry pancake mix. And I think we had the same trail through our house, but I think it was made from videos. Brings back a lot of memories. Hang in there, you are doing just as good as all the rest of us. :)

Emily said...

I love this. Also, please keep less of an eye on your kids so you have an endless supply of material for blog posts.

dalene said...

This may be one of my favorite posts ever.

Anonymous said...

Ok, I'm the anonymous commentor who said you supervised badly. I have to say that my kid has autism and has done similar things to the book thing (naked too), although not the flour bucket. he used poop. although, not a bucket of poop. I wish it had been flour.
does that make up for the judgement on the Comet?

AzĂșcar said...

Yes :)

Let's be friends? OK.

Anonymous said...

Yes, Im sorry I was bitchy. It came out worse than I meant it. I honestly think you write terrific blogs.

Brooke (look, I'm unmasked. I'll await the pitchforked masses)

Miggy said...

I love this kid.
As far as I'm concerned you've earned your place in the celestial kingdom. (sorry to get all religious-y)

Anonymous said...

Beautiful photos.

My failure to supervise is the only way my kids will ever get to experience creativity, because there's no way I'm ever going to hae the patience and energy to let them actually use the paints and other craft supplies I buy for them. So they have to improvise.

Carrot Jello said...

I don't usually LOL, but when I read this I did.
I really did.

Vern said...

I cast my vote for not keeping an eye on your kids, because then what in the world would I read about?! Classic, classic picture.

Mindy Gledhill said...

Haha!!! I just enjoy your writing so much.

Middle-aged Momma said...

The photo of your little one stuck in the bucket,looking up at the camera with flour-dusted glasses, armless and all guilt-ridden has left a grin on my face all day. In fact, I thought about it again at church today and laughed louder than I would have liked. Please don't keep a better eye on them. In fact, leave them alone for a weekend. I need to laugh like that more often.

Candybottomgirl said...

Ohhhh Santi! Genius. He is a genius. I would have paid very very good money to see your face when you discovered this. I would have paid him good money too.

Sam said it... that kid wif the glasses is so smart.

Mary said...

I can't believe you threw out the flour just because he got his nut meat all over it!!

Tzipporah said...

My favorite part is that you had the presence of mind to stop and take pictures. :D