"If I'm curt with you, it's because time is a factor here. I think fast, I talk fast, and I need you guys to act fast if you want to get out of this. So, pretty please, with sugar on top, clean the fucking car."
-- The Wolf, Pulp Fiction
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-- Clairee Belcher, Steel Magnolias
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July 14, 2005
Have A Good Story, Am A Bad Influence... And Almost Lost The Swimmy
This is too much and I feel I must share twice in one day.
While regaling ArtsyDaughter with the possum story from this morning, I seem to have, uh, let one of my favorite words fly. With the Swimmy in the backseat. Laughing.
Whoops.
Now, the Swimmy’s vocabulary is frighteningly advanced, but I’m pretty sure “crackwhore” is not one of her spelling words this summer. When I asked her what she was a laughing at (praying silently), she said, “Oh, Mommy, you’re so silly.”
I’m hoping that’s the end of this story.
Something tells me it isn’t.
So, while ArtsyDaughter and I are giving each other the “Wow that could be really bad” looks out of the corner of our eyes, The Swimmy decides to PULL THE HANDLE ON THE CAR DOOR AND OPEN IT.
WHILE WE’RE MAKING A LEFT TURN.
ON A BUSY STREET.
Cut to: pulling over….hazard lights blinking… backing up of traffic… ArtsyDaughter slamming the back door shut again and us driving off with hearts beating furiously and laughing nervously.
And many, MANY sentences that begin with the Swimmy’s FULL name and stern directions about ever doing that again – like NEVER, EVER, EVER. Amen.
ArtsyDaughter then wisely asks if I will be telling Husband about this?
Hmmmm….
This could go one of two ways. I could tell him, or he could read about it. Either way, bad shit will happen, so I will tell him. (Unless, of course, he reads about it first in which case OMG OMG OMG honey isn’t it terrible and aren’t we SO lucky?!)
And it’s only Tuesday. Seriously.
While regaling ArtsyDaughter with the possum story from this morning, I seem to have, uh, let one of my favorite words fly. With the Swimmy in the backseat. Laughing.
Whoops.
Now, the Swimmy’s vocabulary is frighteningly advanced, but I’m pretty sure “crackwhore” is not one of her spelling words this summer. When I asked her what she was a laughing at (praying silently), she said, “Oh, Mommy, you’re so silly.”
I’m hoping that’s the end of this story.
Something tells me it isn’t.
So, while ArtsyDaughter and I are giving each other the “Wow that could be really bad” looks out of the corner of our eyes, The Swimmy decides to PULL THE HANDLE ON THE CAR DOOR AND OPEN IT.
WHILE WE’RE MAKING A LEFT TURN.
ON A BUSY STREET.
Cut to: pulling over….hazard lights blinking… backing up of traffic… ArtsyDaughter slamming the back door shut again and us driving off with hearts beating furiously and laughing nervously.
And many, MANY sentences that begin with the Swimmy’s FULL name and stern directions about ever doing that again – like NEVER, EVER, EVER. Amen.
ArtsyDaughter then wisely asks if I will be telling Husband about this?
Hmmmm….
This could go one of two ways. I could tell him, or he could read about it. Either way, bad shit will happen, so I will tell him. (Unless, of course, he reads about it first in which case OMG OMG OMG honey isn’t it terrible and aren’t we SO lucky?!)
And it’s only Tuesday. Seriously.
Posted by pammer at July 14, 2005 1:07 PM