The Blog Post That Gets My Blog Flagged By All Government Agencies

This is where I tell you that today I will be getting some in-front of the camera acting practice. I will be playing a crackhead. This is my second time working with this particular director and it has been fun to practice and get a few pointers.

I consulted with Morgan on how to make myself look like a crackhead, besides the obvious suggestion that I'm sure you are thinking of right now, which is, duh, become a crackhead real quick.

He told me what he did when he had to make someone look like a crackhead so I tried it out last night and I must say, it worked. After about an hour of walking around the house like that, Madison said, "Did someone punch you...in BOTH of your eyes?"

Then she said that she had a headache. She had been whining a good bit all evening, mostly when I asked her to do something or to eat her food. "My head hurts....my tummy doesn't feel good..." You know, the kid standard. I kept having her drink water and made her lay down. As you know from previous posts, this kid does not do well with being still. She has these legs...and arms....and they're spindly and they move without even being told to. Finally I just sent her to my bed, because sometimes when you're a kid you just feel better if you can lay in momma's bed.

I still go to my momma's house and lay in her bed.

I started looking for any children's pain relief medicine I could find...which was none. At this point she starts crying ya'll. Actually crying. Now I'm really trying to find medicine. MEDICINE THAT I KNOW WE FUCKING HAVE WHERE IS IT!!!!!????? I tore apart every drawer, every cabinet, and every shelf. If you are a parent, and you have ever had a child in so much pain that they are crying and you can't find anything to help them, then I'm sure you know the feeling. It's 11 pm, and I can't figure out what to do. I have infant's tylenol but I can't find a damn thing anywhere that tells me how much I can give an older kid if needed. I have grown up tylenol but it tells you right there to not give it to kids or else all of their organs will go on strike and develop drug problems and bad attitudes.

FINE! We're going to the store I yell at the medicine cabinet. I snatch Coop out of his slumber in his Wonder Pets pajamas, grab Madison by the hand and run out the door. Anyone seeing this from the street would've thought our house had a bomb in it. [Oh, hi Homeland Security, no bomb's here, just an exaggeration. Sorry for any inconvenience.]

Cooper thinks we're going to a party, he's squealing and clapping his hands. Madison is holding her head like if she let's go it will fall apart. I go to the 24-hour grocery store and pull up to the door...the doors that are barricaded with carts. ASSHOLES! I drive to the other doors. Madison wants to stay in the car, but I assure her that if I leave her in the car screaming with a toddler the police will come and take me away.

In the store I put both kids in the buggy and turn to go into the second set of doors...BLOCKED BY A FUCKING SIGN! So, I turn to go into the other doors. Unfortunately, at the same time as a young man who I berated with my comments to noone that WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT TO GET INTO THIS DAMN STORE AND LOOK! IT'S LIKE A MAZE IN HERE! WHY ARE THERE BEACH TOYS?THERE'S NO BEACH HERE, NO ONE'S BUILDING ANY SANDCASTLES!!!! That man will never get married or have kids. Or go to that store ever again.

I finally get out of the maze of unnecessary summer products and I see that there's only one cashier open and there's a long ass line, a line that I have to cut through with a crying child to get to the pharmacy, a line that I know I'm going to have to stand in with a crying child when I come back. As I cut through the line, I look at everyone and say OF COURSE!! Like it's their fault.

That's when I notice they are all staring at me. That's when I remember.

I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING CRACKHEAD.

I look like a crackhead. I have two children in my cart, both in their pajamas, one of them screaming, one of them clapping, my hair is half in a pony tail and half falling down all crazy, it's almost midnight. At this point I looked down just to make sure I had pants on, I was really unsure. I was surprised to see that I was fully dressed.

Well, at least there's that.

I got to the pharmacy and tore into a box of Tylenol Meltaways, which must be the fucking best thing ever because as soon as she was done chewing them up her headache was feeling better...which was all just in her mind because as soon as we got in the car she was crying again.

While at the pharmacy I stocked up on all child medications because I'll be damned if this happens again. Then I surveyed my cart to make sure I couldn't cook meth with any of these items because I just knew there would be questions at the check out counter, what with me being a crackhead and all. But, because I don't even know what's involved in cooking meth I just crossed my fingers. [Hello, DEA. No meth or crack here, I assure you. Thanks for stopping by.]

And that's that. We went home and I put Cooper back to bed, which really confused the shit out of him because he think's it's morning and where's the balloons, I thought we were going to a party?!

Before.

After...OH MY GOD RUN!!

(note: those aren't real zits...I totally put those on with make-up.)

New Old

While at the park the other day I saw a little boy that I thought went to Madison's school. I asked her who he was...


Me: Who is that?

Madison: I don't know his name. He's new old.

Me: What? He's not in your class?

Madison: No.

Me: What is new old? (instantly realizing I made a mistake I put my sunglasses back on so she couldn't see my eyes bleed)

Madison: Like. I've been at the school since Kindergarten, so I'm old. Gabe just started so he's new. Kelly is old new. That kid is new old.

Me: Okay. But what is old new and new old? (yall won't believe this but I kept a straight face when asking this question)

Madison: (audible sigh) Nevermind.

I still don't know what new old or old new is, but you can be I'm going to start using it in conversation.

Headache Inducing

I have been in a room with 13 kindergarten and first grade students while they played Simon Says. I neglected to apply the stipulation of: no yelling and no making Ms. Amber's ears bleed. Every little Simon at one point...or another... would say: "Simon Says Yell...or Be Loud...or Go Crazy...or Hey look Ms. Amber's eye's are bleeding...

When they finally were all picked up by their keepers I struggled to get out to my car, Mad and Coop in tow. "Momma?" Madison falling down all the way because she was carrying one of my bags and she's as dramatic as me. "Momma?" We get to the car. "Momma?" I have to set my bags on the wet ground, oh yeah, it snowed and rained today. "Momma?" I couldn't find my keys because someone dumped my bag out when they fell down for the fifth time so they weren't where I put them. "Momma?" I finally get Cooper buckled in, bags in the car, self in the car. Then...

Madison: Momma?

Me: Sigh. Yes Madison?

Madison: Um, Momma? Do you want to see me cross all of my fingers at one time?

Me: More than anything.

Errah!

Someone got a fancy Password Journal for her birthday. No, not me. It was Madison of course...though I'm not known for turning down gifts, so if you're in a giving mood...

She received this gift yesterday...today I'm on the verge plunging that little book into a pot of boiling water and then stringing it up in town square and throwing stones at it. The basics.

With this Password Journal, initially you hold down the main button and it prompts you in this English accent, "Recohd passwohd" then you say you're super secret password. After that, it prompts, "Repeat passwohd", then you repeat it and it says, "Passwohd Recohded". From that moment on whenever you want to open the journal, to, as Madison says, "Write down all your secrets" (she's seven, how many secrets does this kid have?), you press the button and it tells you to say your "passwohd" and then *magical music here* it opens and you are free to write all of your secrets. Ooh, and I love this part! Whenever you successfully open the journal it tells you how many possible intruders there have been since your last journal writing session! "37 new intruhdahs."

Now, all of this is probably what happens in everyone else's home. Not here. Nope.

This is how it goes:

Journal: Recohd passwohd.

Madison: Rat (I'm not kidding)

Journal: Repeat passwohd.

Madison: Rat (Seriously)

Journal: ERRAH! Recohd passowhd.

Now, repeat that 34 times. I think every two times, the journal says, "See you latah!" and my eyes start to bleed.

Every few times Madison will change the password choice. Every 86th time the journal will actually open and we both look at each other with despair in our eyes...then she shuts it again and I pass out.

You can even change the sensitivity to the microphone, so that you can say the password quietly and not as clearly. That doesn't matter, this thing it like Fort fucking Knox. You're not getting in with anything less than an encrypted ID, eyeball scan, fingerprinting, DNA check and your first born.

Here's what it looks like when it's open. I guess. I don't know from personal experience.

Misunderstood Donation

If you have a child, like I do, that insists on keeping every single thing that crosses her path...you know, for sentimental value, then you know what kind of mess a bedroom can become. For the most part Madison keeps her room clean, sometimes it gets out of hand but lately she's been good about it. I have drilled into her how fortunate she is to have all of the crap, err, toys that she has but that some kids don't have anything, so a couple of times a year we purge her room and donate, around Christmas we buy new toys and donate to local charities also. Sometimes I will just make a quick sweep and drop a bag of at Salvation Army.

This is what I did about two weeks ago. She was at a sleepover so I decided that it was time for a sweep. I went through and got rid of a bunch of stuff, stuff that I never see her play with and stuff that I was just plain tired of looking at. Nothing of actual sentimental value...so I thought.

Yesterday, I get a message from Joe. "You need to call and talk to Madison."

Okay.

I called and I heard "waaaa" "sniff sniff" "gurgle" "baby" "waaaa" "doll" "ehhhhh". I double checked the number to make sure I hadn't misdialed and gotten some crazed lunatic's home/asylum by mistake. Nope, correct number.

I'll spare you the gory details but apparently I donated to Salvation Army her most favorite baby doll ever in the world and now she is sad and can't function on even a minor level because everything she does reminds her of the time spent with said doll.

Me? Donate you baby doll that you have had since you were two? I don't think so. I couldn't believe it! I must have just thrown it in by accident. I wouldn't have done it on purpose...really. I promise. I tried to talk her down from the ledge but it just wasn't working so I told her maybe it was still actually in her room and to look again and I would help her when I got home. Lies.

I now remember that it was in the bag, that bag was definitely taken to Sally's, and I am definitely the worst mother to ever walk the planet. Ever. I, of course, get the bright idea that I will go there after work and look to see if it is still there. No way someone bought that doll...no way I said. No way.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, wait, yes I do. I was thinking that I would walk into that stinky, dirty, dusty store and a beacon of heavenly light would be shining down onto the pristine body of that baby doll with its arms outstretched ready to go back home where it belongs.

I have quite the imagination.

Instead I am greeted by two pack and plays from the 1980s filled way past the brim with stuffed animals and dolls. Please, let me remind you that these toys have seen better days. These raggy, mangey, moldy stuffed beings...well, it was just pitiful. That's the only word I can think of, oh, and gross. Who would donate this stuff. But, I, determined to save the day went ahead and dug in. Each time I reached my hand in I prepared myself to pull back a bloody nub. FINALLY, I saw a doll head!

I grabbed it and pulled it out and this is where I tell you the God's honest truth. I screamed and jumped back about 3 feet and didn't even draw the slightest of attention from anyone. What stared back at me was something that has survived (if you can call it that) many a war and many a brother or sociopath. This doll looked back at me with one clicky eye open, one nubby arm and one leg that had been duct taped on, it was dirty and it hated me.

I didn't need any other sign, I left. I'm still sanitizing my hands.

Went home empty handed (luckily I had both of them) and if I know my daughter, and I do, when she is 30 years old she will call me and say "Remember that time you donated my favorite doll?"

And I will say, "Yes."

I hate dolls, they scare me (obviously) so here is a picture of Bocephus, he's due for some screen time.

Madness

Madison enjoys those Mad Libs books. By "enjoys" I mean she likes me to tell her what type of word then she likes to take an hour or two to make her decision.

I started teaching her in Kindergarten the different types of words, nouns, verbs, adjectives and so on. For some reason the adjectives always throw her for a loop.

For instance:

Me: Adjective.

Madison: Chicken.

Me: Adjective, a describing word...short...tall..pink...fluffy...pretty

Madison: Chickooooooooo.

Me: No...that's a sound effect or...something.

Madison: Stinky.

Me: Thank you.

What Do You Wish For?

Like any small child Madison has a lot of wishes. I'm sure most mom's hear the usual, I wish..., (insert random sparkly thing here). As you should assume, I never get "the usual". Here are some examples:

Madison: I wish that I could sleep upstairs.
Me: Oh yeah?
Madison: Yeah. Do you wish I could sleep upstairs?

(After walking through the haircare aisle in Wal-Mart)
Madison: I wish that I had black people type hair so I could use that hair stuff in that box.
Me: Really?
Madison: Do you wish that too?


Madison: I wish I had a German accent. Do you wish that too!?
Me: Nein.
Madison: What?
Me: Nothing.

You see what I mean now? Multiply these 3 things by 12 and that's my day.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I wish that I was debt-free, lived near the ocean, had a TV series and a movie deal.

Do you wish that too?

It's Like Pulling Teeth

Milestones. They are something to celebrate of course, but they make me sad. I'm not sure if all mom's are like me but anytime my kid's do something that is a milestone (sit up, crawl, walk, jump out and scare the shit out of me, etc.) I get a little sad. I'm happy and excited on the outside but on the inside I go and sit in the corner and cry because that's just one more thing checked off the list of things they can now do and pretty soon they will be doing more things that will propel them out of cute, snuggly and baby-head smell territory.

For example, Madison lost her first tooth last year. She wasn't with me when she pulled it and I was devastated. DEVASTATED. Devastated that she was growing up way too fast and second because I wasn't there. Then she lost her second, third, fourth and fifth but she wasn't with me for any of them. She was with her dad, or at school, or I was at work, you get the picture.

Then her sixth tooth was so super duper wiggly and I excited that finally I would be there when she pulled it. We were at home and my brother was over to watch a movie. Turns out we didn't have it so I ran up to Blockbuster. I was gone for literally 5 minutes. When I got back I was greeted by little miss snaggle tooth with a freshly picked tooth in hand.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? I WAS GONE FOR A SECOND!

When I was a kid you couldn't pay me to pull a tooth, the general routine was, "Who's gonna sit on her?" My daughter? She's asking for vise-grips, an oil rag and a bottle of Rebel Yell.

Well, suckers. Today I was here! Well, of course she pulled it in the other room but it was so awesome to see her running out of the room, tooth in hand, gums bleeding and yelling "I PULLED IT!". It was amazing.

I think the reason milestones seem difficult is because my kids can't wait to get them over with, like it's a freaking race. Cooper got his first teeth at 4 months.

SERIOUSLY?

Not only am I now going to get bit, but I didn't realize that I only had 3 months of toothless grin pictures to take and 4000 isn't nearly enough. Not by a longshot.

So tonight, Madison read me a story and then I read Cooper a story and remembered that not so long ago I was doing all of the reading and pretty soon they will be doing all the reading. And, that's okay by me.

No Title Because If I Had to Think of One My Head Would Explode

I have been dealing with this water heater crap for 3 days now and I've had just about enough. Every time I hear the footsteps of one of the many men that have been gracing my door this week I take a beat and prepare myself for the news. News like the following:

• That one spot of wet on your carpet? That's not all.
• What I mean by that's not all is, your entire first floor is soaking wet under the carpet.
• We are ripping up the flooring in the bathroom.
• We are ripping up the flooring in the hall closet.
• We ripped up the carpet and removed the pad.
• Your crawlspace has standing water and you need new insulation.
• We'll have 10 of these fans on for two days, hearing damage? You should be fine...
• The fans will heat up the first floor to a chilly 95 degrees.
• The insulation in your laundry room wall got wet.
• We need to tear down the wall with the wet insulation.
• We will need to remove your new water heater and your furnace to do this.
• You won't have hot water for a few days.
• You're head is on fire...ma'am? 

This week has been the freaking best. I can't stop smiling from all the good news and excitement. The fans are going and I will have the noise of it in my head for next six years. Oh, and, the dog won't come inside because he's scared of the fans. At first he wouldn't go outside, I finally lured him down there with salmon treats and a new car. He peed for 10 minutes. Now it's raining and he won't come inside. This is fine by me. He knows its raining, he's the one out there, what the hell ever. You know who cares? Madison. And boy does she care. She cares enough to bring it up to me 60 times an hour. Over and over and over and over.  "I think he wants to come in now." "It's raining, we should go and see if he'll come in." "Can we let him in now?" "I'm going to go check on him." "He's been out there a long time."

And, she's watching High School Musical 87.

I now have 4 bald spots and a self-inflicted black eye.

Bocephus is still outside. I know because Madison just went to check.

Topic Generator

I discovered a topic generator while I was racking my spent brain for something to write about. Yay! Even less work for me to do. Also, I always have great fuel for my blog but I usually forget as soon as it comes to me. Then I have to go somewhere, then I start dancing, then I trip and fall, then I am late to where I'm going but I get to use my favorite excuse, "Sorry I'm late, I was dancing and I fell." Honest to God.

Where was I? Topic Generator.

Well, guess what? This things a genius. First of all the first 5 times I hit the button it gave me topics that I've already talked about. So, maybe I'm the genius not the generator. Wow. I am smarter than a generator, right? Maybe not.

One of the topics was "Checking Your Closets Before Going To Bed". Which we all know that I do just that, except I also check them when I come home from work, from the store, from my mom's house and after using the bathroom or taking a shower. This reminded me of something that I wanted to tell you. I have an awesome kid. Remember the post about my family and how we scare the shit out of eachother whenever we get the chance? Sure you do. It's right here. So. Turns out Madison has honed this skill. She practices everyday and my wracked nerves and hair loss is the evidence of this. She has even taken Joe's talent of actually standing in front of me and while I look at her she yells out "Gaaah!" and then I scream and crumple into a pile at her feet. Then I hug her and say, "That's my girl".

So, you and your kids do crafts? Garden together? Sew? Well, suck it and BOO! Gotcha.

Past or Way Past?

Madison: Is it past Cooper's bedtime?

Me: Yes

Madison: Way past?

Me: Yes

Madison: Is it past my bedtime?

Me: Yes

Madison: Way past?

Me: No

Madison: Is it way way past?

Me: What is the exchange rate of "past" in fifteen minute increments?

Hopefully Not Lost In Translation

I have to share this with the world and I'm not sure if it will come across as great as it was when it happened.
The words in WHITE will be Madison's and the words in RED will be my mom. Madison was sitting at the counter with Uncle Morgan, my mom was in another room trying to find something on TV and she was just talking out loud. She said something that sounded like "Tink" and that started the following:

Tink

Tink,
Tinkerbell,
Why does she want to watch that?

HD

HD,
HBO,
HBO Family,
"Just a little curious..." (singing theme song),
Are those bugs dead?


I look at Morgan and his mouth was agape, he was stunned speechless. Speechless...Madison doesn't quite know what that is yet.

Momma. Momma. Momma.

That's my name, don't wear it out. Oops, too late, worn out beyond recognition.

I was really worried about becoming a mother of two. I was scared that it would make things different with my relationship with Madison or that I wouldn't have enough love. Whatever that means. My mom assured me that something just happens when you have another child, that there is enough love and to stop my whining and get her a glass of water, with lots of ice. Now.

As usual she was right. I can't explain what it is that happens, it just does. All of a sudden your heart has expanded and you love both of these babies so much and there is no 'one or the other', it's just both. This is not to say that I am not exhausted and that sometimes I would love for my hearing to fail and that at night even though I am so worn out that I have enough luggage for Paris Hilton occupying my lower eyelids I still stay up late just so I can get a little peace and quiet.

Like right now, it's almost midnight. I finally got Cooper to sleep, he has decided that sleeping on backs is for pussies and he wants to live dangerously and sleep on his stomach. So being the momma that I am and having a worry wart for a husband we bought one of those motion sensor baby monitors that even picks up on breathing movement, because it's great that Coop is sleeping three hours at a time but if he decided to open those eyes he would see one or two blood-shot eyed parents staring down at him and his reflection in the spoon in front of his nose because they are checking his breathing for the tenth time this hour. Every move that he makes has Joe shooting straight up in bed screaming "What's wrong!?". So, Coop is asleep, Madison is asleep after fifty questions regarding when is summer, when is Christmas (um, three days ago), when are we going swimming, when is spring, when is Thanksgiving in Canada, well, you get the drift. Thanks to an Ambien, Joe is asleep and I am currently sitting in the La-Z-Boy listening to his snoring on the baby monitor, eating some Dove candy (because I'm the adult, that's why) and about to enjoy a vigorous round of Plants Vs Zombies. Ahhh, this is the life. Wait, that's not right.

Long story short, I love my kids and I am exhausted. Wow, I do ramble.

Kids Don't Float, Beer Cans Do Though

I am lucky to be alive. Well, we are all lucky to be alive. Especially with all the drunk drivers and psycho's running around. Oh, and my mother.

The majority of my serious injuries have been dolled out by my mother. Though I have never broken a bone I have suffered a few concussions. Holy crap, stop freaking out! She wasn't abusive, well, not on purpose anyway. She's probably reading this right now and I can bet you a dollar that the word asshole has come out of her mouth....right...about...now. Hi momma. Sorry momma.

So, let's run down the list shall we.

While at a company picnic for her employer all of the kids were outside playing soccer (i.e. mindlessly kicking the soccer ball, we're from Lousianan, we don't play soccer). Someone kicked the ball into one of the efficiency buildings, these are aluminum and are on wheels so they are about 3 or 4 steps up. I of course being super helpful and cute run up the 3 wooden steps and step into open doorway, just as my mother was raring her leg back to kick that ball all the way to sweet heaven. Right? Because we were only like 10 feet outside the building, she wanted that ball to go places. All I see is blur of black and white and BAM right in the face. I woke up on the hood of someones car with everyone staring down at me. "She's fine" someone yells and back to the BBQ they went.

Next, swimming in the lake. We were having a grand time, that is until momma lost her footing and decided to use her 5-year old daughter as a life saving device. Kids don't float lady, especially if you are continuously pushing them under water. I wouldn't let her near me even in the bathtub for months. I quickly learned to wash my own hair.

Once my daddy was leaving for work so I ran outside to tell him goodbye and while running back to the house I tripped on one of those concrete stepping stones and was knocked the fuck out. Now, this one isn't directly her fault but I'm sure she said something like "Hurry your ass up", so basically she pushed me down.

Playing softball, I always refused to pitch while she was at bat because I could never catch her line drives at my head. After being called a pussy I reluctantly pitched to her. BAM. Well, yeah, you know what happened.

There are many others that I can't remember, we'll blame the concussions.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I have a daughter now and after poking her in the eye this morning I realized, it's the circle of life and this kid has no idea the amount of concussions she is due for.

Call Now!

My daughter is a very literal person. If you say that someone is green with envy she will demand to see this green person and she needs to know what's going on and now! I shouldn't have been surprised when she started paying attention to infomercials and using their propaganda as gospel.


Me: Taking a shower, trying to get a few seconds of peace so I can wash my hair and maybe, just maybe  shave my legs...or not.

Madison: Frantic knocking on the bathroom door, words that I cannot understand.

Me: "What?"

Madison: "Phone.......Call.......Hurry......."

Me: "Is someone on the phone? I'll call them back, I'm in the SHOWER!"

Madison: "Hurry.....Now....Time......."

Me: Getting out of the shower, legs unshaven (whatever, it wasn't going to happen anyway), gets dressed and proceeds to the living room to answer or return this very important call
"Who is it Madison?"

Madison: "Debbie Meyer!"

Me: "Who?"

Madison: "Momma! We need Debbie Meyer's Green Bags! We have to call now, they said to call now and we get the Green Bags and then extra Green Bags! We need them so our vegetables don't go bad and soggy. We have to call now!"

Me: "No more TV."

Thank God she didn't know where the credit card was or we would be knee deep in green bags.

50 Percent of the Time I Am Wrong 9 Times Out of Ten

Typical conversation featuring Madison and me the wrong one.

Me: **Words**

Madison: What did you say?

Me: **Same Words**

Madison: NO! The other thing.

Me: I didn't say anything else, I only said **Same Words Again**

Madison: *slaps herself on the forehead because her mother is d-u-m-b.*

--

Madison: How does that song go?

Me: **Singing the line or humming the tune, correctly by the way**

Madison: NO! That's not it!

Me: Okay, I don't know then.

Madison: *slaps herself on the forehead because her mother is d-u-m-b.*

So Proud

I have been blessed with a musically inclined child. She loves music and needs to have it on all the time and not just on but, "Louder, please.", "louder", "Hey, Momma, I said louder, please".

I figured I should start keeping a list because when she's 16 she will never believe me when I tell her about how she used to sing "Sweet Home Alabama" nonstop for hours.

This list is just songs that I remember her specifically requesting, over, and over again. Quite the medley. I will add to it as I remember more or as she adds to the list.

• George Strait
• Baby's Gotten Good At Goodbye
• Overnight Male
• When she found out that George Strait had a movie (Pure Country) she flipped out!
• Lovesick Blues
• Johnny Cash
• Ring of Fire
• Jackson
• Jim Croce
• Bad Bad Leroy Brown
• You Don't Mess Around With Jim
• Don McLean
• American Pie
• Jon Bon Jovi
• Wanted
• Lynyrd Skynyrd
• Ballad of Curtis Lowe
• Sweet Home Alabama
• Classical Music
• I have no idea any titles or composers but she could listen to classical all day
• Billy Idol
• White Wedding

The Art of Stalling

Bedtime

"Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight"

"What?"

"Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight"

"No, what was in the middle?"

"In the middle?"

"Yes, what was in the middle of what you said?"

"I love you?"

"No."

"Yes, I said, 'Sweet dreams, I love you, goodnight'"

"Oh. Isn't my doll beautiful?"

"Good night Madison"

Knock. Knock.

Madison: "Knock. Knock."

Me: "Who's there?"

Madison: "You're LATE!"

A Simple Person

Each night at bedtime I crawl into bed with Madison and read her a book (or three). Afterwards she likes me to stay with her and talk. "Because I like you so much Momma." I do realize that this stage will not last and will turn into, "Don't talk to me or look at me like you know me when we are in public, got it lady?".
Well, these nighttime chats often times lead to the best pieces of dialog that I have ever had the pleasure of participating in.

Me: "Okay, I'm going to bed now."

Madison: "Momma? If someone was in my room would you come down here?"

Me: "Who would be in your room?"

Madison: "Just someone."

Me: "But who is it, why are they in your room?"

Madison: "Just somebody, you know, somebody in my room."

Me: "Who? Like a bad guy?"

Madison: "Just a person! A simple person!" (slaps her forehead in exasperation)

Me: "Sure, I'll come down. You let me know."

Madison: "Okay, good night Momma."

Now, I know that I drug this one out, but I knew if I kept it going she would give me something. That something was her fear that a simple person may one day wander into her room. A simple person!