Snippets of Funny

A while back, I introduced Em to Dr. Who.  She caught me watching it in season 5 or something and she was driving me crazy asking me questions so I went back to season 1 and started from the beginning with her.  She, of course, adores it because she’s my daughter and has excellent taste.

Now, for those of you poor individuals that do not know Dr. Who, the series is British.  All the actors have an accent and Em, being an 8yo born in the US, is not terribly familiar with it and until now was completely ignorant that, while we speak the same language, there are certain differences.  In one episode, for example,  she sees Rose eating french fries after demanding “chips”.  Em gets all indignant until I explained to her that in England, “chips” are what we call “fries”.    So at one point, Morgan turns to me and asks “why would they be angry?” when someone said, “Are you mad?!”.

So I explained it to her: In the King’s English, “mad”, of course, is used to denote insanity.  In American, we say “crazy”, because “mad” indicates anger.    She seemed satisfied with this and we continued dorking out to Dr. Who and life went on.

Naturally, I was pleased to be able to educate my little one so that she’d become more aware of other cultures and all that good stuff.  It hasn’t worked out quite like I envisioned (except for being a little Whovian, of course).

Now when Em wants to say that someone has gone crazy or is crazy she says “You’ve gone mad like the British!”.

She said this at the dinner table recently and I had to explain to her that what she means to say is that they’ve gone mad the way the British mean it but that the way she is saying it makes it sound like all British people are crazy.  So she looks me square in the eye and goes, “Oh yeah? Well YOUR crazy!”  and then giggles maniacally.  Yeah.  She came out of me.

The weather seems to have taken a turn towards Fall. In fact, I actually had frost on my windshield this morning.  Wait, was was I doing out and about on a Saturday morning, early enough to know there was a frost last night?

So yesterday, the mother of one of my girlfriends came over and took all of my kids out.  My children completely adore her, which probably has a lot to do with the fact that she genuinely likes them and enjoys spoiling the crap out of them.    Anyway, when she brought them home, they had a bunch of little things, including donuts, which got eaten over the course of the evening.  Well apparently, Ae had half of one in there that someone else ate and she wanted it.  Now, she’s five, it’s 9:30 at night, she’s overtired and falling apart and the only thing I care about is getting her wailing, banshee little butt in bed.  So I comfort her and tell her I will get her some for breakfast the next morning.  She is perfectly happy with that and consents to go to bed with minimal complaining.
Guess how I was awoken this morning?  At 8am.  On a NOT school day?
Ae:  “MOM!” *shakeshakeshakeshakeshake*  “YOU said you’d go to Dunkin’ Donuts this morning!”
me: Hmmm?  Oh, yeah, baby, I will.  *yawnrollover*
Ae:  “HEY! Mommy!” *whapshakeshakeshakeshake*  YOU SAID YOU WOULD GET IT FOR BREAKFAST!”
me: “I know *yawn* but it’s not time yet”
Ae: *gasp* Mommy! *pulls curtain back, allowing sunshine to slap into my eyes like happy shards of crystallized pain* “Do you see the sun? It’s MORNING!  THAT MEANS IT’S BREAKFAST TIME!!!”  (She is actually tapping her little foot and pointing out the window, doing a remarkable impression of a very stern Maggie Smith.)

Why can’t my children sleep in? I mean, they complain every morning, when I wake them for school, that it’s “too early” and they are “so sleepy”.  Yet every weekend, without fail, they are ALL up and bouncing off the walls first thing.

So, that’s how I woke up.  I kind of imagined her as standing there with an old fashioned megaphone, like in Loony Toons.

She’s like a tiny little drill sergeant: “GET UP NOW, MAGGOT! MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE! THERE IS SUNSHINE. GET DONUTS.  GO GO GO GO!”

I remember when she was very little, before she could really talk well, she used to use mime and sound effects to make a point.  Like, if her sister has whacked her and she wanted to tattle, she’d come into a room and say, “Em…Em…Em” then she’d *point* at Em and then SMACK HERSELF saying *mapmap!* It’s very hard to look concerned  and be appropriately stern to the offending child when you’re trying very hard not to giggle.

Once, she went to the playground with her Grammy and big sister and something happened (I’m still not entirely sure what).  She fell off of something or tripped and fell; something like that.  Anyway, when she got home, I asked her what she did at the playground.  She still wasn’t really talking in coherent sentences but she loved to “tell stories”.  So here she is, 2.5ish, and extremely tiny for her age, animatedly talking about swings and slides and all the while she’s hopping up and down, making sound effects, and moving towards the steps.  She gets up on the stairs and says, “I fall! Like, like…” and then she throws herself off the steps and onto the floor.   Now THAT is some dedicated story telling (she was fine).  

I share this so you know that yes, she was shouting at me and yes, she was drill-sergeant-ing.  But she’s always like that.  I couldn’t even be mad, she was just SO excited.  So I dragged my fat backside out of bed, slipped on my flip-flops and made a drive, in my jammies, to get breakfast for a precocious little girl and her siblings.  When I got back, my son was so excited that he started dancing, completely naked, going “Dehnuts! Dehnuts!”

DONUTS, people, donuts. But yeh, again, trying to keep a straight face while Lil Man is dancing about, dangly bits and all, shouting what sounds an awful lot like “Deeze Nuts!”?  Not happening.

And so begins my weekend.  Here’s hoping the rest of it is as happy and enjoyable as this morning.


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