yeah, yeah, a good deal

daddy told kids we were getting some of the zillion bags of stuffed animals in storage out to give to the fire department and police department to hand out to kids who are hurt or scared.  surprisingly, this seemed to go over well.  we tried to stop by the fire department, but no one answered, so we took the bags home.  each child was holding on to one animal from each bag, which they were SUPPOSED to put back when we gave them away tomorrow.  operative word being supposed.

8yo – the MASSIVE stuffed animal junkie – came to me a little while ago and said now that she had held bunny for a while, she just couldn’t give her up again. i told her that was not part of the deal.  she didn’t say anything.  a few minutes ago, she came out and said she needed to talk to daddy.  she comes back and says that daddy told her it was ok for her to keep rabbit. this made me >.< except that she leaned back around the corner and said, “that was a pretty good deal daddy got me, dontcha think?  and tomorrow i’m gonna pay him $2 of my allowance whether he wants it or not.”  *sigh* well, what’s one more stuffed animal when you have like 50 million in the house anyway.

btw, daddy’s a sucker. just sayin.

hold me, please

5yo just got out of the shower. i told her to get dressed.  then i hear from her room….

5yo: i’m shaking my butt, my butt, my butty butt bum. i’m shaking my booty butt, my booty wooty wooty.  my bum bummy bum. i’m shaking my toot bum, my bottttooommmm. [giggling hysterically and running around in front of a mirror]

i’m laughing but that same time, she scares me. a. lot.

oh the drama

me: time to eat breakfast.

8yo:  mini pancakes.

me: we don’t have any. come see what we do have.

8yo:  we haven’t had anything new in a week. there isn’t anything to eat.  i’m just saying that i have had to eat the same snacks for 2 WHOLE WEEKS. i don’t know if i can take another day!!!

me:  OH THE HUMANITY!!! pick something and eat. *sigh*

box of what???

daddy gave the kids a large box that some furniture came in.   they had me cut out a window and make a door and they decorated it like an apartment, one which apparently has a cat [note: mama is allergic to cats].  however, today this is what i got:

5yo:  you know what else we call our box? when we have done something bad, we call it the Box of Shame and we go in it and feel ashamed of something bad we did.

i am not entirely sure how i feel about this….i am laughing hysterically while trying to figure it out…..

it’s too early for this

hadn’t even gotten breakfast half cooked when i hear wailing from 8 yo.  i rush in, and she is screaming that she hurt her knee and toes on the rock em’ sock ’em robot game.  she is smushed into a tiny space in her crowded-with-junk closet between a large box, her hanging clothes holder, and a small rocking chair.  i pull her out and put her on the bed and ask her what she was doing in there.  she says she needed privacy to get dressed so she was dressing in her closet.  i ask why she couldn’t just close the door to her room.  she stares at me blankly.  *sigh*

whose kids are these???

conversation on the way home from church:

5yo:  pshhhh pshhhh

8yo:  please excuse me while return to my super wedgie ows.

daddy and me: ???

5yo:  KILLER SUPER WEDGIES!!!! [giggling like a maniac]

8yo:  i am giving myself a killer super wedgie by yanking on my underwear.

me:  oh. my. gawd. whose kids are these?!?


just told 8yo that she can’t go to the neighbors this weekend to wash their truck [yes, it was her idea and she was excited by it! don’t ask] because something came up.

8yo:  tell me what – what came up?

me: it’s private family stuff for them.

8yo: puhleeeeze tell me! i’ll do anything! i clean the toilet!

me:  no, it’s none of your business and i’m not telling you.  end of story.


me:  [considering…]