Friday, October 22, 2010

Warning: Don't Eat Real Sauge!

Is there anything more pleasurable than a lazy phonetic speller? I think not.

The 11 y.o. girl child spells it like it is... well, almost like it is. She once wrote me a note and called me Cwen Christy. I enjoy this vision of me, the queen of my world, with the crown on my head sitting just a little crooked. It's certainly true... only it's off a bit. I think it's not such a stretch.

So, the phonetic speller thing makes for big fun here at the house. I've saved homework assignments, love notes, and grocery lists that look as cryptic as FBI's secret code: 

toylt papr
mlk
qcmber
bred

Of course, when I'm at the store (wondering what in the hell I'm supposed to buy) I must remember to sound out the words. Naturally, her intention is perfectly clear. 

The problem is the lazy streak that occasionally rears its ugly head. Perhaps it's an impatient streak... she spares no time for double checking! Other times, I suspect straight up arrogance, she simply couldn't be wrong. Why bother with all this second guessing. 

I submit to you Exhibit A: 



My son is the lone meat eater in a house full of vegetarians and recently, I found this note on a container of leftovers in the fridge. He cooked "real" meat and my daughter was, it appears, concerned that my wife or I would mistake the leftovers as our ready to eat faux meat products. 

Where else in the world can a woman discover (in her own kitchen) a container of leftover pork sausage links with a sticky note warning that reads, "Don't eat real sauge"? 

That's so freaking owesome!

Friday, October 8, 2010

O-Mom Confession: I Play with Their Minds.

Every now and then I have an idea that is just twisted.

I'm not sure where these things even come from and the worst part is that I crack myself up. Last night, I saw this commercial for Disney Vacations.



The boy-child said, "Dude... that's awesome."

I'm a little ashamed to admit that my first impulse was to torture the children. My mental movie played in fast forward:

Scene 1: The children, the wife, and I are watching the commercial. For a couple of weeks, the children go on and on about the idea of us surprising them with a trip to Disney.

Scene 2: Nine months later, we wake them up before the crack of dawn, put them in the car, and drive for hours, refusing to answer questions about our destination. Finally, I make them put on blindfolds, arrive at the secret destination, get them out of the car, and just when they are certain it's going to reveal we've arrived for our super-secret Disney vacation, I announce that we're doing a 5 day spiritual retreat - lots of yoga and meditation, reading and writing. Oh, and it's a silent retreat. Their faces distort in just such a way, as to earn them new pet names... Shock and Awe.

Scene 3: Next, the movies flashes through a dozen or so scenarios where we employ the message-inside-a-pizza-box technique to announce exciting family news - "Haircuts for Everyone!" and "Laundry Day!" and "Sugar-Free September!" With each experience they grow more and more annoyed... eventually, it's so ridiculous that they start to have fun with the pizza box, too - "Soccer games all weekend!" and "Back to school shopping!"

Scene 4: We pack everyone up again, but this time only drive across town. It's a good couple of years into my twisted game, it's early in the morning, and they are not amused. Mom, this isn't funny anymore. You said it's not nice to tease.... Seriously Mom, I've got stuff to do. Can we just go home?

Standing in airport lobby, we invite them to remove the blindfolds and hand them a perfectly wrapped gift box.


Girl-child: Great, what's this? No, let me guess... an invitation to my graduation?

Boy-child: Tickets to a chess match?

Me: Go ahead, open it.

Boy-child: No wait... (to his sister) I bet it says we're going to Disney World.

They roll the eyes and laugh a little. Reluctantly, they unwrap into the box, open it up, and look inside

Of course, there are airline tickets for the four of us and a picture of Mickey Mouse.

Speechless. Frozen. Eyes darting from me to my wife and then each other.

Finally, we confirm.

They freak out.

Movie closes with this image:


Sick. Twisted. I know about it.