We passed a car on the highway[1] with the license plate "BEARFN1".
I am assuming the owner meant it to express the joie de vivre of ursines, but when I asked my five year old to read it, he said: "BARFing??!? Ew, gross!".
[1] A Chicago highway, the only place I've ever had a driver behind me honk because I was going *only* fifteen miles over the speed limit and I needed to move over to the granny lane.
While telling him he was so lucky to get to celebrate two holidays in December (hannukah in our house, christmas when we visit my family), Jared said:
"Not just two! Four holidays! Halloween is the treatiest, Thanksgiving is the turkiest, Hannukah is the Latke-est, and Christmas is the present-es!"
[no, that's not a typo - it's present-es, not present-est, as he explained to me]
I know this, now.
Why do I know this, you ask?
Well, it's because when I took my kids there for dinner tonight, my three year old peed all over the bench, and it slooooowwwly pooled over on the other side of the bench.
It's been a fun night...
I mean really, why wouldn't "Accio" be in their dictionary? Sheesh.
"Guess what Audrey's gonna do? She's gonna throw up!"
Fortunately it appears that she made a minor sayo[1] - she really meant "eat this piece of chicken", and for whatever reason she accidentally said "throw up" instead. Go figure. She then proceeded to take a fork from the table, hide it behind her back and say "Who's comin' out of my belly? A baby, or a fork?" Fortunately, it was neither.
Her quotes tonight were mighty helpful for lightening the mood, since I had spent the day at home with Jared, instead of at work. Why is that? Well that would be because school called us at 10am to tell us that Jared bit another kid in his class and - get this - drew blood. Apparently this wasn't the kind of thing where he bit the kid and then whipped out a sketchbook and a red crayon and showed everyone what blood looks like - but it was the kind that used to be inside the other kid's finger but was now oozing out of the wound created by my calm, quiet, peaceful, innocent 5 year old.
So when school called to tell us about this, I had to go pick him up. I then took him home and sold him to the gypsies - but it worked out OK, I got a great deal.
Later in the evening, he worked off some more aggression with Audrey as they were having a screamingly good time jumping around together on our couch, and they shared this exchange of brotherly-sisterly love:
Jared: "Can I jump on your face?"
Audrey: "No!!" <turns to me> "He want jump on my face!!" <turns back to Jared> "Please can you not do dat?"
Please, indeed.
[1] It's like a typo, but you say it.[2]
[2] Oh come on, like you've never done it?
But I bet I could totally pwn a second grader.
So he had to go. And he went in the bathroom and no more than 30 seconds later, announced that he was done.
"That was fast," I said.
"Yeah. It was like one minute... It was half price!" he responds.
I posted a couple of months ago about signing up for my first half marathon... and I ran it last week. About 2 hours, 20 minutes... didn't stop running the entire time[1]. I'd like to say that two hours later I was out on the town wearing high heels like Katie Holmes, but that would be a lie: I was passed out in bed.
Here's me about 8 or 9 miles in:
And afterward... this was taken shortly after I kissed the ground, I believe, and my daughter promptly plopped down into my tired, sore[2] lap:
I think that running a half marathon is like getting married. While at the reception, people congratulate you on the wedding... and then promptly ask you when you're having kids. It was only a few hours after the HM before I got my first "So - that was nice and all, but... are you going to run a full marathon now?"[4].
[1] I am not counting the 5 seconds at each of 5 water stops where I walked long enough to chug my cup of water, a strategy I chose after running through the first water stop and nearly choking.
[2] Achy[3]
[3] Insert another form of pained adjective
[4] Because you know, anybody can go run 13.1 miles, that's practically wuss-ville, but it's only the real runners who run 26.2[5]
[5] Knowing full well that the day I finish my first full marathon, I am going to be asked if I'm going to sign up for an ultra.
Because star trek has a square death star[1].
:-)
There's a star trek marathon[2] on this week. And Jared got to watch a few minutes of it with us because, hell, it was the last night before his first day of kindergarten, he was obviously freaked out and needy as hell, and hey we'd already been successful indoctrinating him with Star Wars, why not introduce him to another childhood[3] favorite?
[1] aka the borg cube.
[2] As a testament to how I Am So Not The Same Person I Was Two Years Ago, when my husband first said that, I was imagining people running a marathon wearing star trek uniforms...
[3] I actually said to Jared "This was one of mommy's favorite shows to watch when she was a kid", to which David harrrumphed and said "Daddy wasn't exactly a kid when he was watching it while it was on the air..."[4]
[4] Sucks to be so oooooold, eh?
