This morning I told my daughter that unicorns fart glitter. There was no particular reason for that. It just launched out of my mouth. I’m waiting for that one to come back to haunt me. Probably during the children’s sermon on Sunday. Gee, and I didn’t even think about them pooping rainbows.
My kids’ teachers are sooooooo going to hate them. Call it my vendetta against public education. You shun me, I’ll turn my kids and their big mouths lose on you. Not really, it’s just the same stuff that runs rampant on my posts on here. When I’m out in public and the social anxiety kicks in, a lot of people probably don’t even know I can talk. But when I’m at home in my comfort zone, bizarre stuff comes out of my mouth. It’s like the kid in me never quite went away, and I am sure that all of this will eventually come back to haunt me some day when my kids start blabbing to the teachers.
The Professor already has a serious problem with saying whatever flies into his brain, it then swoops right down out of his mouth. This summer we were at Princess Defiant’s swim lessons. Since he has a serious fear of any water that’s deeper than a couple of feet, he took private lessons and therefore played in the wading area while she was swimming. He didn’t seem to notice that all of the other children there were a third of his age. He DID notice the adults, and talked to them, nonstop, the entire time.
I was engrossed in watching my daughter when I overheard my son say to one of the parents, “You know, there are words that I can’t say. Bad words. My Dad says them, but he says I can’t. I think that when I’m in third grade, I’ll be old enough to start saying those words.” I quickly jumped up and put an end to that conversation before he started reciting all of those words that he’s not allowed to say.
Princess Defiant is still in the “Hey, Hey, HEY I Want To Be The Center Of The Attention And I’ll Say Anything To Get It” Phase. Luckily, most of what comes out of her mouth is pretty tame. Sometimes a little weird, and of course I have to jump in and offer an explanation (to which people think “Hey, she CAN TALK?”) Most recently it had to be during library storytime. Our awesome children’s librarian was reading a story, and I could hear my daughter over there saying “Hey, HEY! GUESS WHAT? Hey! I have something to tell you!” I turn around and shush her. I’m not sitting with her, because she wants me to be invisible unless she has to go to the bathroom. She wants to be ALONE at the library during storytime, like her brother. Anyhoo, me shushing from across the room is about as effective as me shushing her from somewhere two blocks away, because she keeps going. Finally, she says in her loudest but not quite yelling voice, “I MADE A ZAMBONI!”
THAT got everyone’s attention. The librarian and the good parents in the reading area all turned and looked at me. I laughed nervously and told them it was something she made out of a box. Everyone turned back around, but I got some straaaaaaaange looks. Since I was already looking for my perfect nonexistent future employer on my laptop anyway, I pulled up the picture and showed them after storytime. I still got some strange looks, but also some impressed ones too. This was all her idea. I simply supplied the box, paper, and toilet paper tubes. Want to know how to make your very own zamboni? Oh, we have the goods right here.
Kind of on the subject, I wonder what would happen if she saw a pile of glitter. Would she think that a unicorn had visited? For that matter, if unicorns fart glitter and poop rainbows, is she going to wonder where glitter glue comes from? Ooooooooh, I really won’t go there.