Yesterday I was stopped

In the grocery store because of this:

and this:
Apparently my children are adorable enough to provoke sheer strangers to stop me and tell me how beautiful my family is.

It's awesome. I love my kids.

Hot, HOT Pants.

So I had this crazy ass dream last night. I know, this doesn't sound promising, but I had to get it down before I lost it all.

There I was shopping- somewhere- in some fancy pants place checking out these white pants. They were a beautiful pristine white, trouser like, and tiny in size.

[Side note: in my "real" life, I never, ever wear white pants, just because of the close proximity to myself and the earth I walk upon usually equals a mess. Its dirty, and for the love of god and all things holy, I can't keep any white thing white. Over time, it usually ends up a nice shade of dingy sandy white, or better yet, orange from all the rust in my water. Oh yea, & I'm not even close to tiny in size. Closer to a whole lotta love, more or less.]

Any who, so I'm shopping at this exclusive place, and I'm eying these pants, I try them on- and THEY FIT WONDERFULLY. "It must be all this walking I'm doing!! I've been doing these 4.84 mile walks every day, and now look!" Prior to this all I had was a massive muffin top spilling out over the top of my pants. I don't know how walking made me so thin [overnight??], but for the sake of this dream, it did.

Now Kathy Griffin is eying the same pair of pants. She & I for some reason are the exact same size [which would be the size she is now], and somehow this is the only pair of white pants in the store. Anyways, she's looking at them, picks them up, tries them on [they look faboosh on her as well] and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN'T MAKE A FUCKING DECISION ON WHETHER TO BUY THEM OR NOT. I, being as blunt as I can possibly be, tell her that I will buy those pants. She's hemming and hawing over this- and I've already made the decision for her! Then I proceed to RIP THE PANTS OUT OF HER HANDS AND GO TO THE CASHIER. As she stands there gawking, like 'OMG!!! Did you SEE WHAT SHE JUST DID???'

Basically I get into a tussle with the legendary Kathy Griffin in a dreamland store, and me & my smug attitude get the pants I came in for.

Classy, ain't it?

That was the dog.

That was you.
No! That was the dog! :grins:

-----earlier in the day------

We are driving to Target to pick up some sandals for the middle boy. [And hopefully for myself, if they are cheap enough. *fingers crossed*] We, for this trip, are: myself, Alex, Dylan & Jackjack. The variance in ages make it difficult to keep focused on a trip. We are not merely going shopping, we are going for a purpose. This is an excursion! I need to buy Dylan sandals for the summer. Otherwise he'll be running around in socks & shoes, as he refuses to go barefoot. This child, mind you, has a shoe problem. I daresay shoe fetish, because I am still wondering does a fetish develop in those early years?? To say he likes shoes is an understatement. This kid adores shoes. Somehow he wished and prayed with all his might to get his beloved Sketcher's shoes.

That boy ended up with three pairs of sketchers: Airators, Z-Straps, and Evaders. And a pair of Heeleys.

Alex wants to look at (key word: look, because I sure as hell ain't that dropping that kind of dough!) video games, and "Oh, there is a Best Buy over there, Mom, can we stop there too please!!!???!?!" Because when we get there, he wants to check out new cell phones, laptops and, of course, video games. Everything his, and mine, - admittedly- wishful thinking can afford.

Dylan is the one getting the shoes sandals so there is no avoiding that mission. However, there is Dylan, "Mom, check out these shoes!" and me: "No, Dylan we are shopping for sandals, not shoes right now. Oh.. wow, these are cool. Hey Dylan! Did you see these shoes? Aren't these super cool?!?!?"

Jackjack, had no agenda. Well, that he voiced anyways. I pointed out, the minuscule 'baby boys' section. It was the newborn wall with all of the slippers, bathrobes, onesies, that sort of thing. Gift-y stuff. One-third of the rack was boys, the rest was girls stuff!!!!! Any mother with a boy, knows exactly what I am talking about. The boys turned their heads to acknowledge my statement. Alex even returned to that subject when I finally dragged us past there on the way out.

So really its me, almost encouraging them, pausing to shop, look, and telling them "lets go!"

Boys: "But mom! Did you see that?!"
Me: :sighs: "Alright! :smiles: But make it quick, we've got to go!"



------------>back to now, with the whole farting-in-the-chair issue. Yes that was it. The dog was behind him- on the other side, really, but just behind him, and he's sitting in the recliner, settling into some Grand Theft Auto and rips one off. <------------- Among the many, many reasons I love my son, here are a few: Mom, did you see that? hrm?
Why are all those bikes there? What is that?
Its a bike path, there is a little cafe there.
They have a bike club? Awesome! I'm gonna make a foot club! No, a shoe club! For people who wear shoes!
:laughing:
A boat! Aw, Mom! Lets buy that boat!
:laughing: Oh, boy!
No Outlet. There is no outlet in that sign.
really?
Ooh, look at that. Tractor! Lets get a tractor. OOh, A patch of grass! Lets get a patch of grass.
:grins:
Oh, Look, A house!
[If you are wondering, it looked like a kit house- buy the halves & put it together type of deal.]

Wonder what Bob would say if we got that and put it in the back yard.
:his horrible imitation of Bob's voice- sounds like an old lady really: "Oh, no! Not my precious grass! Bah!"

-we commence driving through the swanky tourist-y town to get to target, because I didn't think to get on the freeway! Sitting at the stoplight-

Mom! Its the boat! We saw that guy! Lets buy the boat!
Aw, look mom! A horse! I want a horse like that!

[Horses are apparently part of the community's Public Art Project this year]


MOM!!!!!! OMG, LOOK! ITS A SNOWMOBILE! THEY ARE JUST THROWING IT OUT WITH THE TRASH, AW, CAN I BRING IT HOME?
oh, hell no. No, no, no no no no no no no no no no, no.

ooo, look! A rummage, aw, can we stop?!
:laughing:


-as we pass we can both clearly see that its all crap-

eh, maybe on the way back? [hoping to god, he doesn't remember. But judging from the incident in the store earlier, he'd remember. of course.]

MOM! ITS THE SNOWMOBILE!!! Can I bring it home? Lets put it in the trunk!
no.
But you guys never let me bring anything home to work on!
How are you going to work on it?
I've got tools! I have a huge toolbox at my grandparents! I'll bring it home. It weighs like 500 pounds when its empty!!


-by this point I'm laughing out loud and shaking my head, because he is laughing at himself, and smiling, trying in a miserable attempt to keep a straight face and a 'serious' attitude about it!

Bring on the teenage years, folks. Because this kid is hysterical. I promise I won't want to go back to the hundred-thousand-questions-a-day act around 5-7 years old, because I've got two more kids to go through that with. I love my boy.


Mom, can we turn this into a bowl? Like hollow it out, and its all hard and stuff, like a gourd?