K: Nice. We do too. Mom doesn’t seem crazy about it.
C: Not so much, but cest la vie. You know what Shakespeare had to say about all that anyway.
K: Yeah…that guy was cool.
C: Oh, good! Glad you got the reference to the line by Shakespeare in his play: _______ (this is a fill-in-the-blank questionnaire.)
K: King Leer. Not sure the spelling or the play.
A rose by any other name should still smell like new baby in order to be loved.
C: Lear. No. Romeo and Juliet. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. Meaning, regardless of Juliet’s name (Capulet), he still loved her the same.
Of course, they were young teenagers who thought they were in love after just meeting and decided they knew enough about love to kill themselves because they thought they couldn’t be together even though they didn’t even talk to their parents about or give the whole relationship some time to develop.
But same difference, amirite?
Anyway, it’s the idea that’s important. Not the details. Not in this case anyway. Next time details will be important. Probably.
K: It’s the thought that counts.
What I’m saying is that no matter what you name your kid, mom will love it just the same as long as it has that New Baby Smell. You could name her Dillweed and mom would love her.
Actually, Dillweed is kinda cute.
Dilly! OMG, I’m so calling your kid Dill. Continue reading →
Around Thursday, Little B came out of her room with a full backpack. She went up to her dad and said “We need to talk.” She told him to sit down.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked. He was.
“Ok,” and Little B began.
She proceeded to pull toys out of her backpack and do a sales pitch.
“This is a shaker-thing. When you shake it, it makes lots of noise. It also has lots of colors. Are you interested in this? Is this something you need? Just think about it.” She set the maraca down on the coffee table and pulled out the next item.
“This is a micromophone. It makes your voice LOUDER when it’s close, and softer when it’s far away. There are also button on it, right here. You push them and they do things. Is this something you need? I can sell it to you.”
The microphone in question was actually just a drum stick.
Little B’s Dad was laughing throughout all of this.
“Stop laughing,” she scolded him. “I’m not done yet.”
She proceeded to pitch about eight toys to him.
LB’s Dad bought all the things (while laughing hysterically).
My niece, Little B, is about 3 1/2 years old. On Wednesday, she went to preschool and told the teacher her birthday was that day. She wasn’t going to have a party that night, but she was having one over the weekend. It was going to be a Frozen themed birthday, with Elsa and a pretty frozen cake. She said all her little friends were coming, as well as all her family.
“Except gwandma Gaga,” she explained. Grandma Gaga is her name for my mother, her grandma. “Gaga can’t come because she lives willy faw away. But she visits me in my iPad a lot.”
The class sang her happy birthday and treated her nice all day because she was “the birthday girl.”
Sister-in-law picked up Little B from preschool. The teacher approached her, and said “Why didn’t you tell us it was Little B’s birthday? We could have had a whole little party for her. We did sing her happy birthday, though.”
“What are you talking about?” asked sister-in-law.
“Little B’s birthday… she said it was today. That you’re having a Frozen-themed party this weekend…” said the teacher, uncertainty growing in her voice.
“Little B’s birthday isn’t until March.”
This is what her birthday cake would like like in March, when her actual birthday is.