If I'd known it would be this easy, I'd have told the kids about Bigfoot years ago

Both of my children are in bed. On time for one of them, and an hour early for the other. This is rare enough that it requires comment.

You see, Rory has decided that he needs to watch the news. And since I happened to mention to him that the news starts at 5 AM, well, he decided that he needs to wake up at 5 AM. And in order to do that, he needs to go to bed early. This inspired Brigit to cooperate (for once), and she got ready at the same time.

So, teeth were brushed, kisses were done, stories were read, and I didn't have to tell either of them to do it.

That alone is amazing.

But the real question you may be asking is, "Why exactly does Rory need to watch the news"?

Because, he whispered in my ear this evening, he believes in Bigfoot. And apparently he needs to sccour the news for evidence proving to the rest of the world that Bigfoot does, in fact, exist.

Of course he does.

My parents are so glad we're visiting

Scene: The dining room, finishing dinner
Grownup: Brigit, don't pick your nose.
Rory: She always does that, she eats it too.
Me: Brigit, that's gross.
Brigit (whispered): But, mom, when I go to bed, sometimes I'm still hungry.

Innocence retained for one more year

Rory: Mom, do you buy the things on my Santa list?
Me: Why would I buy the things on Santa's List? That doesn't make sense.
Rory: I'm just trying to figure out if Santa is real.
Me: What do you think?
Rory: Touche, Mom, touche.

Dream 1/3rd achieved

Tuesday -
Brigit: Can farmers be singers?
Me: Yes.
Brigit: Can I be a farmer rock star singer when I grow up?
Me: Baby, you can be anything you want.
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Today -
Rory: Brigit! I saw your face on a rock!
Brigit: I'm a rock star!!

Ayudame, ayudame, estoy en agua

My children are in the backyard, splashing in the plastic pool and playing something I can only term "drowning." As though a not so little nearly 5 year old and a lanky 8 year old could drown while standing in less than a foot of water. Yes, standing in the water. The main objective of this game seems to be screaming, "I'M DROWNING, I'M DROWNING" at the top of one's lungs while kicking the water out of the pool.

One can only hope that the neighbors, before dialing 911 or at least CPS, bother to look out the window, lest they assume that I permit my children to drown, perhaps as punishment for refusing to make mommy that margarita.

Clearly there is something wrong with me

Because this is what I think every time Brigit sings this god-forsaken song:

Where is Thumbkin?
Where is Thumbkin?
Here I am!
Here I am!
You are an asshole.
And so are you, an asshole.
Go away!
Go away!

If only they knew about the rabbi-esque recycling program

I think my company needs to work on their environmental messaging. I just picked up a printout (ok, 3 printouts) of something I need to test. The statement on the cover sheet?

"You just killed a tree..."

Really? REALLY?

Technically I killed 2 (ok, 6) because somebody (cough cough) insists on printing cover sheets with smarmy messages on them.