Today Kory helped me with The Baby’s room, which is at any given moment overrun by her clothes.
Clothes that used to fit her.
Clothes that don’t fit her next.
Clothes that are clean but not yet put away.
Clothes that are dirty.
Clothes for Goodwill.
Clothes I want to keep.
Clothes are are for summer.
Clothes that are for winter.
Clothes for friends that are about to have babies.
Clothes, clothes, GODDAMN CLOTHES everywhere.
Her clothes must be worked through almost weekly or our house will be overrun by tiny pink socks and Dora shirts. Seriously, its like tweezing. Things quickly can get out of control.
You could say to me, “Yo, brainiac. How’s about you stop buying her so many clothes?”
To that I would respond, “The day girls clothes stop being so adorable and Target stops selling them for $4.00, that’s when, chumpy!”
So, today we had one of our marathon sessions in which we look at EVERY TAG to see if it’s too small, too big, THE RIGHT FUCKING SEASON, and we, to use a Palin-ism, CULL THE SPECIES. We don’t chase the clothes around and shoot at them from airplanes or cut off the left arm of her shirts and pajamas for bounty, but only because her room is the size of a shoebox and chainsaws would be unwieldy in there.
After cleaning I made breakfast for Kory, The Teen (who was here for the weekend) and myself…. The Baby Her Highness of All Things Elmo already having eaten hours before, giant hot pink smear of yogurt still in her hair to prove it.
I made breakfast croques – a family favorite. An English muffun (fork split only, fer Christ’s sake) with sliced turkey or ham and your choice of cheese, mustard and mayo – under the broiler.
This is how Kory contributed to the making of breakfast croques:
Me: *squeezing mayo from a squeeze bottle onto the muffins*
Kory: Blooooop!
Kory: BlllooooOOOoooop!
(repeat. a lot.)
Me: Dude. Nice condiment sound effects.
Kory: I’m good, right? I’m totally good.
Me: Yo. You aren’t paying attention. I’m putting on the mustard now.
Kory: doodleydoodleydoodley...
Me: *squeezing mustard out in little dribbles*
Kory: doodleydoodleydoodley...
Kory: You see? You see how that’s a different sound from the mayo?
Me: Yeah, man. You’re amazing.
Kory: I’m really good at this. I should find a way to do this for a living.
Me: Sandwich Special Effects Master
Kory: I was thinking more Sandwich Sound Technician, but yeah.
Oh, just you wait until you hear what barbeque sauce sounds like.
I hear there’s an Oscar committee forming for that one alone.
Comment by klasker — September 14, 2008 @ 10:09 pm
Condiment Master of Ceremonies?
If it were Ian he would have also thrown in a few pervo mayo jokes while making some sort of creepy gesture at me, which he still hasn’t figured out isn’t what one would consider foreplay.
Too much info? Sorry.
Uhh, yeah, so I’m with ya on the Dora and Melmo…err Elmo stuff. 😛
Comment by Krista — September 15, 2008 @ 7:24 am
Reading my mind on the clothes front? Like literally?
With a little puking kid?
Oh, deeples, I adore you. You never fail to be un-interesting.
Off to the blog roll with you. Just saying.
Comment by ms picket to you — September 15, 2008 @ 10:54 pm