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Things have been a little strange around our house lately. I refuse to buy bread but I can’t remember how to make it. There is a pink balloon floating around my kitchen, which I think may be partially to blame.

I just cut Magoo’s hair for the first time and although he looks very much like a POW, I still love him madly.

After 2 weeks of flaming acid poo, we now hose him off instead of using wipes. It’s cool because I think he’s becoming so much like me. I am fairly confident that I would also shower if I ever soiled myself.

When we pray with him, it goes like this:

Me: Dear Heavenly Father
Magoo: Food
Me: Dear
Magoo: Food
Me: Heavenly Father
Magoo: Food
Me: We thank thee for our food
Magoo: Ahhh ha ha FOOD
Me: We thank thee
Magoo: Ank-ee
Me: For our family
Magoo: ‘Men
Me: For our lovely house
Magoo: ‘Men
Me: For all our blessings
Magoo: ‘MEN
Me: In the name
Magoo: ‘MEN!!!
Me: Of Jesus Chri-
Magoo: ‘MEN!!!!!!!
Me: Amen.

Laylee and I both have minor colds and spent a good portion of the day fighting over whose cold was worse. I totally won because if you fight about how sick you are while bouncing around the room like a muppet Kangaroo on Red Bull and asking the other person to play games with you, you’re automatically disqualified.

For the past few nights, Laylee has requested Dancing Queen by ABBA for her bedtime song. She’s also requested songs by Bob Marley. I sing while Dan contributes vocal percussion.

She’s really sad she can’t marry Magoo. I told her she’d be arrested. I told her it could never work. She says “He’s the best boy I’ll ever know” and she’s probably right. I told her that if she still wants to marry him when she’s 18, we’ll talk about it again.

On the phone with my sister, Laylee said that I made really good Spaghetti-O’s for dinner and she loves Spaghetti-O’s and that makes her very proud of me.

If I could stop eating the Cadbury mini-eggs, I’d be very proud of me too.

Laylee’s birthday party is coming up soon, really soon. Like, how soon? Is it today mom? Is it lasterday? Does it touch today? When is it? Very very soon.

For some reason she only wants to invite people who are at least a year older than she is, she wants the party to be about faeries and beyond that she doesn’t much care. This is good because although I care deeply about 4-year-old faerie birthday parties, I care more about saving money to replace my roof.

So, I’m planning to do things on the cheap…er…on the creative. I’m going to tell faerie stories, read faerie facts, sing faerie songs. We will play “pin the wings on the faerie” and then go out in the yard and build faerie houses out of sticks and tree branches. There will be a faerie cake and faerie bingo. I’m thinking about ripping out the children’s teeth, forcing them to take naps and then putting quarters under their pillows. Too much?

I need to do something for treat bags and here’s where you come in. I don’t want to give the kids a ton of cheap junk. I can’t afford to buy them a ton of expensive junk. I want the bags/favors to be themed, having something to do with, say, faeries. I’m open to giving them each one decent gift or bag of goodies.

Whoever gives me the best party favor/bag idea for these little 4-year-olds will receive a Daring Young Mom T-shirt (sizes M-2XL available).

I’d love activity and game ideas as well. Seriously, ya’ll, I need your help.

Last week I ran out of deodorant. Yes sir, I did and I wore Dan’s for 3 days and I totally smelled like a dude. Three years ago I bought a billion sticks of my beloved Dove anti-perspi/deo and I assumed it would always be there. Suddenly last week, it was gone. I’d blown the whole wad and not even realized it was dwindling.

So after 3 days of wondering why Dan hadn’t left for work yet, I headed to the grocery establishment. One certain flavor of Dove was on clearance for “immediate sale” so I stocked up. There is a reason it was marked for immediate sale at half the manufacturer’s suggested retail price. It smells like… Well, the best I can say about it is that it smells slightly better than B.O. So for the next 4 sticks-worth, I’ll be using much of the fruity lotions to balance out the de-stenchifying stench.

Each stick has one of these on the top, for freshness and to administer torture. If you buy 4 sticks at once, I would suggest putting the unopened deodorants away in a far away cupboard. You should not trust yourself to remember which one has the razor blade removed and attempt to apply it hastily in the dark, rubbing as hard as possible so you’ll use it up faster so you’ll feel justified buying a new scent.

I cannot get that song out of my head.

What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
What shall we do with the drunken sailor?
Early in the morning.

It was dorky enough to be singing folk songs in unison with perfect diction, wearing white tuxedo shirts and bow ties. Did the choir director really need to insist that they pronounce it “er-LIE in the mor-ning?” That was 18 years ago and it still lingers in my brain.

Well, ear-lie yesterday morning, Magoo woke up with the mangy raging vomit. Things appear to have died down but we’re staying home until we’re sure no one’s contagious. The worst part of a barf-o-rama are the hours after the eruption, the hours when he thinks he’s fine and he’s hungry and why are you not feeding him cottage cheese on a slice of lemon because as he said previously, HE’S HUNGRY, you miserable torturous mutha! He will tell you exactly where to shove the crackers and soda you have the nerve to offer him. You may not understand his directions, but he will certainly tell you.

And then he cries and you comfort him and he pushes you away because he thinks you’re making a mockery of his pain.

Conversations with Magoo are a little harder to transcribe so I thought I’d just share some of his speech with you via video-blog. He’s learning to mimic well and even uses some words in context. At this point drinks are still “geeks” and he has erased the word “yes” from his little lexicon. In place of “yes” he says “please” or “fweeee”. EVERY. TIME.

Some things to notice – The giant curls sticking out of his head, the way he says “Whaaaaa?” like an annoyed teenager when he’s busy and I try to get him to face the camera, the look on his face when I take the phone away.

If you’re my mom, you may enjoy this video. If you’re someone else, I’ll get back to work and write something for you tomorrow.

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This afternoon I was trying to take a wee nap. What better time for Laylee to engage in some fascinating discussion?

Laylee: The monsters are keeping me awake.
Me [lobbing an imaginary can with my eyes still closed]: Spray them with this Monster Spray.
Laylee: Okay, I sprayed them and it killed them and now they’re DEAD.
Me: That’s kind of harsh. Usually I just spray them and it makes them sneeze so they leave my room.
Laylee: Well they’re really annoying and I want them to be dead. So I spray them and then they die. Then I throw them out in the forest with the lions and they eat them and then they poop them out in the toilet and flush them away. I don’t like monsters.

When I relayed this conversation to Dan, he remarked that she has quite a vivid understanding of the circle of life, or, I might add, the digestive system.

Laylee: I just said a little prayer and Jesus said it’s time for us to play a game.
Me: Maybe if He said that, He’ll play a game with you. I’m sleeping.
Laylee: Nope. He says He wants you to play it. He’s tired.

I know He is, but what am I?

I was recently babysitting for a friend’s daughter, an adorable little 2-year-old elf who can spell her 3-syllable last name perfectly. She reminds me of a corporate executive in miniature with bulbous pig-tale buns, marching around the house and calling me by my last name.

“Thompson! Excuse me! What does this toy do?”

“Hey THOMPSON! Excuse me! Where are you?”

I spent the morning laughing at her polite attempts at dictatorship and asking her to spell things and coach Magoo at football.

At one point she and Magoo got into a tiff about something in which one was yelling yes and the other was yelling no. They stood about 5 inches apart, hollering at each other until they forgot whose job it was to say “yes” and who was rooting for “no” to win.

Half an hour later, I was called onto the field or into the boardroom or whatever.

Olive: Thompson! Who’s in that picture?”
Me: Me and Laylee’s Dad.
Olive: What are you doing?
Me: We’re drinking soda.
Olive: But what are you doing, Thompson?
Me: Drinking soda.
Olive: No. You’re kissing.
Me: No we’re not.
Olive: Yes. You’re kissing.
Me: No. [pulling the picture down] See, we’re just drinking soda from two straws that are very close together.
Olive [eyeing the photo suspiciously]: O-kaaay.

Then she was off with purposeful steps, her hair bouncing sweetly behind her. My word! I need to get me a kid like that. Acutally, I don’t need a kid like that. I think I would die from the cuteness.

Then Laylee punched her in the face. I really hope her mom doesn’t mind large red facial welts. She could have fallen asleep on her arm. Sometimes that leaves a mark. Ayayay.

I do want to point out my favorite parts of this picture, the parts no one notices, the reasons I still keep it framed in my front room.

#1 — The tadpole — This picture was taken right after I peed on a stick, saw a double pink line for the first time and announced it to my entire family. What could be more romantic than that? I bet you’d share a soda in public too if it happened to you.

#2 — This guy — He would not share a soda. I love the horrified look on his face. “Are they kissing? At an outdoor theater? Does this lawn chair come with a vomit receptacle?”

I now close my eyes tightly, throw a penny in our backyard puddle and wish that guy was available to make facial commentary in the background of all our family photos.

-So, um, yeah. I just stopped by Costco and happened to take this picture. No I did not photoshop it. That is my real parking spot! AHH!!! I know. The best day ever. I’ve still got it!

-Fairies are invisible and magic and their names are Laylee. They wear very little in the way of clothing. They appear to be cold, if I could see them, which I can’t, because they’re invisible.

-Laylee just told the baby we’re watching not to go into her castle and I’m pretty sure I heard Dan say, “Laylee, can you say ‘nobody puts baby in a corner’?” and I loved him… and thought of Chris.

At BlogHer, our friends from Johnson and Johnson had nametags that said “Johnson’s Baby” and it became increasingly hilarious throughout the weekend to say things like, “Where did Johnson’s baby run off to?” or “Why are you sitting over there like that. Nobody puts baby in a corner.” I think it was the 10th or 35th time Chris said this that I began suspecting a life of adult diapers was in my future.

-Also, Brian has sweetly commented on the Hertz post and from the sound of things, he has not undergone any major surgery as a result of his ordeal. He is a trooper (not with the state, just the chipper-young-lad variety).

When Magoo asks for a geek, I get him some jews.

When my friend’s daughter asks for her hippy, she prefers the valveless variety with no handles.

This morning Magoo is dining on jews, chi, and faffles.

What are some of your favorite childish mispronunciations?

He’d probably put white tile floors in my breakfast room with acres of graying grout.

Oh…

wait…

Reasons I think my flooring is of the devil:
1. He specializes in things that look pretty on an initial walkthrough but in the end will eat away at the fiber of your soul, one blob of crusty jam at a time.
2. They say he likes it hot. It would be just like him to torment me with a frigid slab of freeze that turns our feet to solid ice every morning as we eat our Eggos.
3. Dirty, nasty, sick and wrong are his favorite things.

Imagine a world that was impossible to clean, a world where you could spot a breadcrumb from 30 paces, a world where Magoo dumps all his food overboard to signal that he’s finished dining. This is my world. The grout gets greyer daily but somehow the tile around and beneath the filth seems to grow brighter and whiter, making the play-doh dust stand out decisively.

Personally, I think God would have chosen Brazilian hard woods.

On another note, Michelle from Scribbit is holding a writing contest you should think about submitting something to. She also did an interview this week featuring yours truly in which I said nothing for about an hour and then she compiled it into something worth reading. Check her out.