Ladybug is scared to flush the toilet. I believe it started in the Wal Mart restroom and the automatic flusher. She was getting up and the loud maelstrom of water roared in the stall and it scared the proverbial crap out of her. So now when we are out and she needs to go to the bathroom, I have to cover the sensor so she won't get scared.
This phlushphobia has made it way to our house. She has developed her own mantra when it comes to going potty at home.
When it's yellow, let it mellow. When it's brown, close the lid and leave it for Daddy to be surprised and have him get rid of it.
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I like it when my wife works out. And it's purely for selfish reasons. You know? The fact that exercising creates endorphins. Endorphins makes people happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. They just don't.
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I like it when my wife works out. And it's purely for selfish reasons. You know? The fact that exercising creates endorphins. Endorphins makes people happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. They just don't.
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We've gotten into the habit of doing laundry every day. By doing I mean washing, folding, AND putting away. Sometimes the clothes would sit on the couch for days weeks. MaddSkillz would have to dig through the pile every morning looking for something to wear. He'd be frustrated because sometimes he couldn't find something to wear. Now that the laundry basket has been staying virtually empty except for what we wore the day before, he has the problem of forgetting what he wore earlier in the week. He now could end up wearing the same shirt twice in the same week if he's not careful.
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For some reason shards of broken glass have manifested from the soil of my back yard. It's where the dogs hang out and no grass is present in the area. The ground is drying up and pieces of broken glass show up every day. Some are still stuck in the dirt. It's weird how it got there, because I'm not sure how. It's right outside the window and I'm thinking maybe prior to us moving in, the window was broken in the fire we were told about. The fire was in the kitchen and the living room (the room with the window adjacent to the yard) is right next to the kitchen. Both those rooms have newer windows versus the rest of the house. So, I assume that the window was broken, fell into the area dirt and covered up without being picked up.
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MaddSkillz has grown his hair out since sixth grade. The thing is he won't do anything with it most of the time. It usually ends up looking like a bowl cut when we get it cut. But we could spend 30 bucks to have it done at a hoity toity hair saloon like we've done before.
Uh no.
We've told him how he could cut it so it doesn't look like a bowl, or cut it shorter but he doesn't want to listen.
We're wrong and don't know what's cool.
He has a new girl he like.
MaddSkillz tells his mom the other day.
"Taylor and her mom said they like my hair short so I'm not letting it grow any longer than it already is."
Seriously!??!?!!?!?!?!?1
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We've started having issues with our kids not telling us the complete truth when asked. Usually it involves something happening to something or someone in another room without parents present. The kids don't want to take blame for whatever happened. When asked who did something, when it was obviously Disco, he will say it was his little sister. When I tell him that Celi is going to get in trouble and if he is okay with that, he says "Yeah!"
Right now he has no problem throwing his sister under the bus.
Then there is my lovely daughter. Usually she'll blame it on the other guy, but when I keep asking her (again knowing she is lying to me) she'll say it was her.
Well the other day I went into the kids room and on the floor was some ripped out pages of one of their books. No big deal, there's not a book in the house that doesn't have a page torn or something. In this case, the page was ripped out and then ripped into little pieces. So I confronted my daughter about it and she told me that a dog did it.
"A dog??!??!?"
A dog came into her room and ripped up the book and then left.
Yes, a dog she confirms.
So I take her on a walk to go see Mommy and let her hear the story of the mystery dog for herself.
"Ladybug, tell Mommy who tore the book in your room."
She points at herself.
"You?!"
I look at my wife, "She told me a dog tore up the book in her room."
"Daddy!! I was the dog. I was pretending to be a dog and I went into my room and I chewed the book up an tore the pages."
"....................................."
Mommy covers her face as not to hold the near explosion of laughter that is about to come out. I try so hard to hold my bearing and tell her something about not telling me stories anymore about imaginary personalities when I ask a question.
You've got to be kidding me..
Have a great day my friends..
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