In an attempt to preserve my sanity, I registered the boys for a couple half-day summer camps. This week they are at the same location, but unfortunately, the drop-off and pick-up times are different. I drive 20 minutes from home to drop Large off at 8:00, then I have an hour to kill before I drop Medium off at 9:00. I drive 20 minutes back home so I can get Small down for a morning nap, then I drive 20 minutes back so I can pick Large up at 12:30, kill an hour and a half and pick Medium up at 2:00.
Today is Wednesday. I’ve already been to Target twice this week, Starbucks three times, McDonald’s once, and Corner Bakery once.
Yesterday, while Medium, Small, and I were enjoying a leisurely hot beverage at Starbucks, Medium noticed some birds pecking at the previous diner’s crumbs.
Medium: “Why do you hate birds so much?”
Mommy: “They’re like flying rats,” as my friend Lisa would say. (Lisa’s been BEGGING for a shout-out in the blog, and I’m sure she’ll be psyched to get it via a commentary on flying rats.)
“They’re dirty and they eat other people’s leftovers.”
|Empty fish tank, just like I like it.|
(Although the handwritten note that says
"I love Buddy, love Medium" does tug
at the heart strings . . .
Medium: “Then how come you don’t like fish?”
Mommy: “They swim in their own poop.”
Medium: “They don’t swim in poop! They swim in water!”
Mommy: “They poop in the water, and then they swim in it. They eat out of the same water. They eat and poop in the same water. It’s disgusting.”
At this, the quiet gentleman working on his computer at the table next to us, (or perhaps looking at porn; I don’t really know . . . ) chuckled.
Mommy, to Chuckling Gentleman: “I’m right, right? They swim, eat, and poop in the same water.”
Chuckling Gentleman: “That ain’t right.”
Mommy: “Medium here got a fish for his birthday. The fish is dead already because I told my husband that I REFUSE to take care of a fish. If that means the fish dies, then the kids have just learned a valuable lesson in the Circle of Life.”
Chuckling Gentleman, to Medium: “It’s all right, little buddy. You’ll get another fish someday.”
Not if I have anything to say about it . . . .