A big fat crapulance is squatting on my house. I am not ready to look at it. I will instead focus on some tiny little crapulances gamboling about at my feet. LA LA LA I DO NOT SEE YOU, LARGE BAD THING. Instead here is a brief tour of the tiniest of the tiny mayflies swimming in my cream of crap soup:
1) I can no longer call Beautiful Maisy Who Is Barely Two by her rightful moniker. She has TURNED the corner. She is now two and a half. Still heartrendingly lovely though, so THAT’S a plus. But oh oh oh how did my tiny squirrel-pop of a baby become two and a half!?!?
There are all manner of horrific consequences to this change from “Barely Two” to “Heading for Three with a Bullet.” Not least among them: The Death of Faggot.
That is correct. You heard me. Faggot is no more. I wave a sad handkerchief in farewell and usher in the age of “Sig Fig.” Somehow, he is not the same tiger…But at least he can go to Wal-Mart.
2) Sam’s team lost their fourth soccer game in a row today. But the good news is, they lost FOUR TO THREE!!!! Usually the gap between their score and the other team’s is so wide if it were a person it could legally drive. Or even drink. Or even collect social security. Sam, who is usually the world’s MOST competitive little booger ALIVE (wonder where he gets THAT??) seems oddly QUELLED at soccer games and hangs back politely. Turns out he was missing out on a KEY bit of information that could radically change his playstyle.
On the WAY to soccer I had a BIG TALK with Sam about not nominating himself for every possible star, and asked him to notice the other kids’ strengths and to nominate THEM for a bit of glory, too. I was pleased to note he did so. After the game, we went to Publix to get milk and whatnot, and Sam saw one of his teammates in frozen foods. He waved cheerfully at the kid, but as soon as they turned the aisle he was DYING to tattle.
Sam: I nominated him for best defense. But not best sport. He was a very bad sport today.
Me: Oh no. What happened?
Sam: He didn’t wait his turn. Other kids would be kicking at the ball, and he would get in there and fight with them for it and kick it while they were trying to kick it.
Me: Um…You mean he took the ball from kids on ya’ll’s same team?
Sam: Not JUST our team. He took the ball from kids on the other team too. And that was REALLY rude mom, because our coach said today that THEY were the VISITORS.
This seems like a job for a DAD to explain.Posted by joshilyn at October 2, 2004 1:36 PM