Things that make me go "What the eff".

Ahem.
 
He asked me to “wock the doors”.
 
You’re doing it wrong…
 
And finally,
“Why does this toy have a hair tie for a mouth? I wonder what happens if I “press here” as instruc…”
 
“BLEEEAAAAAAGH!”
(pitches toy into the nearest bin of its toothy bretheren and flees wildly)
 
 
 
 
 
 
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I should get involved in the toy industry

just as a way to prevent the atrocities I stumble upon on a daily basis.
 
These are the animal themed foam tiles in the playroom:
 
A delightful little pony.
 
The cutest t-rex to ever petrify the inhabitants of the Cretaceous.
 
Aw, and elephant! Who doesn’t like elephants? No one with a soul, that’s who!
 
Annnnd the rabid antichrist bunny-demon/current host of the Eye of Sauron.
 
Why?
 
No one….no one during the design, marketing, and manufacturing process of this set went “Hey guys, whats up with the bunny”? All normal little dot eyes, and BAM giant red Bunnicula orb.
 
I think someone at Munchkin Toys hates rabbits. Mmm hmm…
 
I’m currently fighting the urge to Sharpie in a little bloody slaver. I’m fightin’ it hard.
 
 
 
 
Disclaimer: I have spent entirely too much time inside my home this week.
 
 
 
 

I don’t think he’s a team player.

On Sunday Payne came blasting around the corner guns a blazin’, as illustrated:
 
 
I asked him what I could have as a means of defense.
 
He offered me this:
 
 
I pulled the butt flap off, threw it, and braced myself for the blast wave, of course.
 
 

I treat you to a tour of our home,

before and after children.

(and please ignore my massive formatting issues in this post. I don’t speak HTML.  The random links are also a mistake and are firmly cemented into this post. Blah.)

Before:
 
After:
Heyyy! I’d call that an improvement! Go us.
 
Before: 
 
After:
Not too shabby, aside from the moat defense approach to garbage can placement.
 
Before:
 
After:
Alright, we have a squatter, and a few unsightly necessities. Passable.
 
Before:
 
After:
Hmm…Things look, uh, busy. Yes. That’s it.
(p.s. there are legos drying on the counter because someone decided to barf into the Lego lid and then PUT IT BACK ON THE LEGOS to “cure” for a few days. Thanks kids.)
 
 Before:
 
After:
Ok, something is definitely up with the toilet (scratches head). At least the Crocs match the decor. 
 
Before:
 



Exercise? Psh.

Before:After:

 
 
After:


Guests? Psh…

Before:

After:

 

Oh my….

Before:

Fresh cut flowers? Was I serious?!

After:
It’s official.
 
I give up.
 

My child. He is funny.

He wore a new shirt on Friday:

 

 
I asked him what he thought of it. He said “Wow! It’s a bone t-wex, form the dinosaur libary!”
 
I asked “You mean the museum?”
 
Payne: “Yeah! The ‘zee-um!”
 
Heh heh.
 
Then today I was in a sort of macabre mood, and decided to compare my new drivers license photo and my old one. I lined them up, and Payne popped his head over the edge of the counter to query “What you doin? You have two Mommy cards?”.
 
I’m going to sign all letters “Rachel Lastname LM” from now on. Licensed Mommy. Ha.
 
 
 
 

Man I love this kid,

and he’s gonna hate me when he reads this someday.

I turned the big three-oh today. Oh yes, and I can’t say I’m thrilled. I’m putting on a brave face, though. A brave face complete with smile lines. Ha.

So we had to go to the DMV this morning for a new drivers license photo (Thanks, state of Texas. It’s like they went “Oh, she’s 30 now? That requires a new picture, for sure”).
Obviously I didn’t go early because, well, who in their right mind visits the DMV with any motivation outside of complete and utter necessity?

We were quietly facing off with my selected government employee, doing that silent and attentive but avoiding eye contact thing, when Payne farted.

I tried not to laugh. Mr. DMV displayed an impressive poker face, and then Payne leaned towards me from his chair and very conspiratorally whispered “Dat was me” and started giggling and muttering quiet little unintelligible jokes to himself that were all punctuated with the word “toot”.

This evening I was helping him wash his hands in the bathroom when he reached over and flipped on the exhaust fan. He confidently informed me “D’ere. Dat wihw get de stink out”.

Ah, the mind of a 4 year old.