Time to Start Blogging Again

Driving somewhere between Dalhart, TX and New Mexico.

John: What would you do if a deer jumped out in front of us and you hit it but it was still alive?

Me: Slit it's throat and eat its still-beating heart.

John: (pause) Well. You'd have to drag me off from mounting it from behind.

I love road trips!

I'm babysitting Zane's best friend, his cousin Noah, this morning. They are each sitting on toilet yelling at each other from across the house.

Noah: ZANE! I'M GOING POOP!
Zane: EWWWW! I'M GOING POOP, TOO!
Noah: EWWWW! YOU'RE GOING POOP, TOO? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!
Zane: YEAH! I'M POOPING! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!

Barbie

Out of the meager selection of stickers offered at his doctor's office, Zane picked this one. On closer inspection, he giggled at it and said "that's funny!" I asked him what he thought was funny and he said "that head, and the neck is too long. It looks really funny."

You're goddamned right it does.

Zane: I love that soap so much that I want to live in a soap house.

John: Zane, do you want a snack? How 'bout some cheese.

Zane: Yeah, but not cheddar. Aged gruyere, please.

Great. I've got a 4 year old cheese snob.

Horror Story

I hate dream sequences in movies.  I really don't like it when people tell me about their dreams.  I generally skim over dream descriptions in books.  When I tell someone about one of my dreams, I edit fastidiously, only hitting the most crucial points of the dream.  That said, I've had some pretty entertaining "action-movie" dreams that I don't mind retelling.  Last night's dream was not one of those dreams.  Last night's dream was a "horror movie" dream.  And everyone knows that I don't watch horror movies.

Scene:  Large house, party, several families including my parents, brother and sister-in-law.

Zane has some sort of accident and dies.  John and I decide, for some inexplicable reason, that we have to cover it up.  My mom has pulled some meat out of the freezer to make a meal.  We get her involved and decide to butcher the body and cook it with the rest of the meat.  We think no one will notice the extra "meat."  I think my mom does the butchering - you know, because, she's more experienced.  With butchering.  I keep thinking "why do we have to cover it up if it was an accident?  Why are we doing this?  What about the bones?  What are going to do with the bones?"  I imagine trying to bury the bones and organs in the yard and just know that we're going to get caught.

After my mom does a literal hack-job on Zane's body, she adds some "breast" meat (it looked like chicken - I guess even my unconscious mind can't imagine what human meat looks like) to the pan along with the other generic meat and lets it simmer away in the gravy (I hope this doesn't ruin gravy for me).

Jump to everyone eating.  People start questioning what the meat is, saying it tastes weird or different.  I agree, suggesting that maybe it's gone bad.  Everything starts to unravel and...I wake up.  And just about throw up.

There.  My one dream sequence.  Forgive me.

Car Talk

Zane:  Why is the window glass?

Me:  Well, the glass is clear, so it lets us see out but it’s still hard enough to protect us from stuff like the wind and bugs.

Zane:  And rain?

Me:  Yep, rain, too.

Zane:  And creditors?

Me:  Uhhh....I suppose it would protect us from creditors.  Creditors?  Where did he hear that?  Was I watching something on TV talking about it?  We haven’t had issues with creditors in a long time.

Zane:  Yeah.  Like tigers.

Me:  Oh!  PRE-dators!  Yes, definitely predators!  

Zane's "Fancy" Writing

Conversation in the car...

Zane:  Mommy, where's Nigel's butthole?

Me:  Right under his tail.

Zane:  Where are his butt cheeks?

Me:  He doesn't have butt cheeks.  Just a hole.

Zane:  Why?

Me:  (sigh)  I don't know.  Maybe because he doesn't walk on two legs.

Zane:  Where's Cookie's butthole?

Me:  Under her tail, just like Nigel.  You just can't see it because of all her fur.

(thinking-pause)

Zane:  Cookie's a girl.  Does she have a pa-china?

Me:  Uhhh...I...don't...really know.

Zane:  Well, she's a girl, so she must have a pa-china.

Me:  Yes, well, she has something LIKE a vagina, but I don't know if it's called that.  I don't know what it's called.  Do you want to play with my phone?

Note:  Apparently female dogs have vaginas.  And that's what it's called.  And we will never speak of this again.

When you're six...

Scene:  Zane and Emily playing on her new playscape next door.  Me pushing Zane on the swing and Emily swinging herself next to him.

Zane:  Mommy!  Am I going as high as Emily?!!
Emily:  No.  But one day, when you're six, you'll learn to do this.
Zane:  I'm NOT!  I'm always going to want Mommy to push me!  Or daddy.
Emily:  But Zane, you have to learn.  You HAVE to!
Zane:  No!

Aww, my sweet boy.  But, yes, Zane - you're going to have to learn to swing by yourself.  Mommy has short arms and is tired of getting kicked in the face.

Poop Humor

Zane just made up a new word:  poo-nami.  That's a giant poop wave.

Sadly, I see this is my first post in two months.  I'll work on some more posts soon.