Blah, blah, blah...

"Mom, does my juice box have vitamin seed?"

:: :: ::

"Mom, I want a credit card."
"You're too young for a credit card."
"But I want one so I can go on the Wii and buy games."
"Connor, you can't have a credit card because they're dangerous."
"How?"
"They just are."
"But, HOW?"
*sigh* "Because you can get yourself into major financial ruin."
A pause.
"What's that?"
"What's what?"
"What you just said?"
"Nothing. I can't explain it. You'll understand when you're older and when you grow up and move out of our house, you can get a credit card if you want."
"But I want one now."
"NO!"

:: :: ::

"Mom, I a little bit bugged Kolten."
"Benen, why?"
A shrug.

:: :: ::

"Mom, can I have some more bubble gum?"
"No."
Two minutes later. "Mom, can I have bubble gum?"
"Benen, I already gave you a piece today and I already said I'm not giving you anymore."
"But I swallowed my other piece."
"That's too bad. You're not getting more."
An hour later. "Mom, can I have some bubble gum?"

:: :: ::

When I began this blog a little over a year ago, I had great aspirations. I planned to blog every day of the week, Monday through Friday. I figured it would force those creative juices to flow and I could get down all the crazy wonderings in my head.

It wasn't long into it that I realized I lead a very boring life. It's busy, but rather boring to read about. I also realized that most of those crazy thoughts should stay in my head so my family and friends wouldn't start filling out an application for me at the loony farm.

So, that's where it's at. I'm not blogging five days a week. In fact, when I blog I carefully check each post to be sure I won't shock some people, what with their delicate sensibilities and all. Oops, did that sound a little snarky? Must be the computer. It's been giving me attitude all day.

:: :: ::

How sad is it that my four year old is motivating me to do laundry? He's a helper and he loves to fold clothes. I decided to let him go at it. He helped me fold a load of laundry and I was impressed at the great job he did. I managed to resist the urge to smooth some of the wrinkles and re-fold the ones that weren't "perfect."

He's been asking for the last five minutes if we can take the clothes downstairs and put them away. What? The couch isn't good enough? Apparently not. I suppose I really should go put those clothes away. You know, lead by example and all that.