“So I’ve read that Samhain isn’t really on October 31st,” L’s mother tells me out of the blue last night. “Supposedly its on the next full moon, something about the moon cycles after the Fall Equinox.”
I’m pretty sure I made a sound at this point that is generally written as “Uh huh,” so she continued.
“I’m still gonna be having candy, though.”
Annnnd I’ve got nothing to say that will top that, so Happy Halloween everyone!
(This line of “thinking” on my part was actually some time back, but it amused me, so I wrote it down. Since it fits my unofficial theme of the week, I decided to post it today.)
Why didn’t I get more sleep?
I need coffee.
Why am I so stressed?
I need a beer.
Why doesn’t coffee and beer taste better when mixed?
“Do you ever have one of those dreams where you do a lot of running?” Lala asked me this morning. “And when you wake up, you’re tired?”
“No,” I answered, glancing over at my soon to be three-year-old. “These days I just cut straight to the waking up tired part.”
“My coffee is backfiring on me today,” L’s mother told me over the phone this morning. “It’s actually making me sleepier.”
“Must be Opposite Day,” I posited.
“In that case,” she said with sleepy chuckle. “I should have a beer or two to wake me up! Yeah . . . that’s a great idea!”
I pondered for a moment how best to respond to that, then concluded, “I guess it is . . . it being Opposite Day and all.”
Speaking of the truth sometimes writing its own jokes . . .
Recently I learned that not only is there an Intercourse, Pennsylvania, but a Climax, Pennsylvania as well, and that, according to my map program, the time it takes to reach Climax starting from Intercourse is a little over four hours, which surprised me.
That sounded more like the Blue Ball route to me.
She had to reschedule.
Admittedly that not a particularly interesting follow-up to yesterday’s post, but I didn’t want to leave anyone in suspense, and it’s the truth. Sometimes the truth isn’t particularly interesting or funny.
She offered to do a bikini shoot to make up for the inconvenience though.
And sometimes the truth writes its own jokes.
“Did I tell you what happened with Lara Croft last weekend?”
(Since this sort of thing keeps happening to me, I’m surprised it still surprises me . . . but it does.)
Sign of maturity: When you find something unpleasant floating in a cup of coffee that had been left out overnight, you do not take a picture and send it to your housemates. You simply clean the cup.
Sign of the current limits of said maturity: After thoroughly cleaning the cup, however, you do consider telling your housemates about what you found, just not telling them which cup it was.
Sign of maturity: You do not actually do this.
Proviso: Intentionally.
Sign of maturity: You are mildly horrified to realize that as you are in the process of telling this story to one of your housemates, she has poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and commented that, “This coffee taste’s different, good, but different.”
Sign of the current limits of said maturity: Despite your horror, you manage to casually tell her, “Maybe that’s because the cup you’re using is the cup I was telling you about.”
Sign that maturity is overrated: She favors you with a truly delighted smile and says, “I thought it tasted nutty!”
An important milestone in any child’s development is when they are old enough to start playing “pretend.” I knew this.
I never expected to be insulted by it though.
L., as I’ve mentioned before as recently as last Friday, loves Thomas & Friends, and recently he’s started to pretend that he’s Percy. His mother has been cast in the role of Thomas (Percy’s best friend), and Lala is now Emily (a cute and friendly engine who is green like Percy).
And who do I get to be?
I get to be Diesel 10 (the villain).
Thanks, son, just . . . thanks.
This is about the alphabet joke, isn’t it?
Today L. looked up at me in surprise when I asked, just to make the next fifteen minutes different from the prior, that he please not keep repeating the same lines from Thomas and the Magic Railroad over and over and over again. Then he silently gathered up his toys and went to play in his room with the door shut for half an hour.
When your two-year-old decides to give you some space, it’s definitely time to rethink your mood.
Candles & Curses 