January - October 2007
July 19, 2004 - 10:21 a.m.
Anybody Want Some Nuts?
Saturday was our neighbor’s granddaughter’s first birthday party and we were invited. They are, well, how can I say this, let’s just say their house is painted flamingo pink and the trim is turquoise. While I don’t have a problem with turquoise and pink per se, I wouldn’t paint my house those colors, if you catch my drift. Our neighbors are nice, but needless to say, we totally didn’t fit in with the party crowd.
For one, this was a one year old’s party and they had ghetto music just blasting out on the back patio. The music was so loud, people were yelling at each other and the bass reverberated through your chest. For two, maybe only two of this baby’s presents were wrapped and ours was one of them. People were just walking in with the gift thrown in a plastic bag. While I know it’s the thought that counts, really, how much fun is opening a plastic bag? For three, well, there’s not much more above the fact Larry and I just felt really uncomfortable. They had a bounce house, but Peyton refused to get in, because the other kids were older, so he was content to play by himself, so we were left just staring at him playing by himself. Then they had ponies come to so the kids could ride them, but Peyton refused to that, even though he loved the horses at his school fair not two months ago, so we couldn’t do that. It was just a lot of standing around with our thumbs up our asses.
After about an hour, I decided I wanted some water, so Peyton I were going to walk next door to our house to get it, and Larry decided he needed to check his cell phone for messages and well, needless to say, we just didn’t go back next door after that. As so rightly termed by ????????, it was the “ghost leave.” Ha
We have our story straight though, should they ask. Peyton needed a diaper change and then he fell asleep, which technically isn’t a lie as he did fall asleep about 30 minutes later. Ha.
We now officially have to really start watching our language around Peyton. I’ve been preaching this to Larry for about a year now, but the fruits of our vulgar tongues have now come back to bite us in the ass, oops, rears.
Last week, we were in the kitchen cooking, and Peyton was sitting on the counter, as he is wont to do. Larry and I were kidding around and I stuck my finger up his butt. (That sounds much grosser than it is, he was fully clothed and I wasn’t digging for gold or anything.) So he shouts out, “Get your finger out of my ass!”
“Ass?” A little voice echoed, then burped.
Oh dear. We tried not to laugh as I changed the subject trying to distract him.
Apparently, we didn’t learn our lesson though, as yesterday a similar episode occurred. Larry was outside doing yard work and he called Peyton and me out to look at his handiwork. He had been cutting tree limbs down and was asking my opinion about one more. I told him it should be probably be done and he promptly replied, “That’s going to be a bitch.”
“Bitch?” That little voice echoed again as he pointed to the tree. “Bitch?”
“No, honey, that’s a tree.” Death rays shooting in Larry’s direction.
So apparently, as long as the curse word doesn’t come at the end of the sentence, we’re ok.
Last night, Peyton was performing baby gymnastics as we were trying to go to sleep. Larry groaned and said, “And we’re having another one. Peyton can you say, ‘we’re nuts?’”
“You’re nuts, mommy. You’re nuts, mommy. I’m nuts. You’re nuts. Nuts, nuts nuts.”
This carried on for a good 10 minutes.
It’s so hard to be stern when you’re too busy laughing your ass, I mean rear, off.