Prolly All the Time

risking TMI

I recently purchased a new set of underwear.  Nothing fancy...  but the tag on the inside seam bears the brand name "it se bit se."  I read this tag every time I grab a pair for the day...   

It is like my underwear is giving me permission to eat a brownie.

pt t'pon's totally tantalizing spectacle

I am considering setting up a traveling midway. As you can see from the following conversation, I have a miracle man right here in my very home. So I just need to find a bearded lady, a sword swallower, top hat and jodhpurs and I am in business. Ladies and Gentlemen, step right this way...

(if i may digress for a bit...  go back and read that last sentence paragraph.  anyone want to take bets on the number of folks who end up here on an interesting search for THAT one???)

[N. is just waking up in the other room. I am tending to the beans in the kitchen]

N: [urgently, and with such deep excitement that when uttered suddenly, might be confused with emergent need] t'pon, OM MY GOD, please come in here NOW, now... OH MY GOD!

t'pon: [running in, a tad frantic -- see aforementioned tone similarity] what, oh my god, N. what, what?!??!?

N: I can SEE! I woke up and just opened my eyes and I can SEE! this can't be right, but oh my GOD! Thank God, I can see...

[in the intervening moments, drawn like a moth to the flame, Bean comes into the room looking nervously at his father who, for all intents and purposes, is full on loco-talking]

N: it's a MIRACLE, i can see...  I can see YOU, i just woke up..

t'pon: what? n. you can't see? are you sure? there has to be...

N:  YES! no glasses, no contaaahh...cts... [somewhat pregnant, obviously awkward pause. i may have tapped my foot for effect] ummm, so... never mind, ok.

t'pon: ok. you betcha...

coq...

A few years back, bean and I were really into this site (can't find it now, so sue me for the link...) filled with audio clips of kids making animal noises in different languages.  Now, I consider myself a pretty cosmopolitan person...despite the obvious suburban location.  But I had no IDEA that animals spoke in different languages.  I mean, I guess in theory that makes sense, but still...

Anyway,it was a bit of an obsession... a cute obsession. Bean would run around the house, making animal noises in different languages while I struggled to just get him to say anything in English.

And then after a day sometime, it was just irritating. It maybe got so bad that I wished I had never introduced it in the first place.  The kind of bad that that makes you want to bang out your ear drums with a meat tenderizer after the 18th time in the last seven minutes you have heard the rooster crow in French.

And so, I unintroduced it. (Like I unintroduced M*ckey M*use Clubhouse when I determined that it was melting my will to live.)   And after much gnashing of teeth and tearing of garments, Bean moved onto other Web-based obsessions. For many happy months, the inhabitants of casa t'pon lived a francophone rooster-free existence. 

Let me interject here.  What I find truly amazing about kids (at least mine) is how they operate like a really funk-dirty sponge.  Soaking up everything around them, but only saving up the truly nasty, dirty, germy bits to spread around your counters and table tops for fun later on...  Can't get this kid to remember to poop in the poop-can, but he sure can remember to tell everyone in Target that his mommy is tired of cleaning "sh&t" out of his pants...  precious.  really.

And so it was that a few days ago, the francophone rooster returned.  at 5:30 in the MORNING.  with a megaphone.  attached to a sub-woofer. placed directly inside my BRAIN!   

If I were the kind of parent that thought spontaneous bouts of cuteness were charming regardless of the hour or VOLUME...  perhaps, I would be a better person all around.  But, alas, I find cute to be far more, well cute, with an extra 2 hours of sleep in the morning.

So here's to you...  CO CO RICO!  I am getting some duct tape and taking a nap!