Lots of graduation parties (so many of my godchildren graduating this month and next). Lots of check writing. Not giving any advice, no siree; not this fairy godmother. Their mothers have all instructed them "Don't do what Ant Vickee did!" I have no secrets with these children. It's scandalous! The fact that I have been on a Very.Straight.And.Narrow.Course for 16 years seems to have no bearing in these Ancient History tales.
My sisters and parents attended many of the functions. We make ourselves generally useful and not ornamental, as we have been taught. We bring charged cameras and take many photos. We refill buffet trays and open more wine. My mother, a born storyteller, regales all with tales of her childhood. And speaks Finn to us to prove whether you are saying something kind or particularly naughty, it all sounds completely alien in Finn. (Does anyone know if Elvish in The Lord of the Rings is Finnish? I'd heard that and keep meaning to ask my mother. It did sound vaguely familiar.) Anyway, I told my mother to cut it out. The more wine she had, the nastier her phrases got! And she forgets; I know what she is saying! We should all live so long we are a problem to our children, hmmmm?
And I have been cooking. Cooking for brunches we've had here. Cooking for suppers we've had here. Cooking spicy Thai food for luncheons, cooking melt-in-your-mouth breakfast fare. With my boys at my side, fetching, setting and pronouncing failures and successes. What would I do without these beautiful boys?
Some funny things heard around the manse:
Youngest: "Quiet! I am trying to focus!
Oldest: "Mom! NOT those striped pants (seersucker)! I will look like a dink in them!"
Oldest: "I liked the baby better when she didn't talk!" (My 20 month old niece; who, being female, has quite the command of the spoken word and barks orders).
Youngest: "Please! I want a time out! Give me a time out right NOW!" (at the dentist office, where he pitched a holy-hell fit, while I am holding his baby cousin, and also trying to manhandle him into the dentist chair.)
Me: (seeing dozens of dead prairie dogs on the roads - road kill at an extreme lately) "WOW! Look at all those smooshed prairie dogs! They must all be committing 'hari prairie'!"
Youngest: (who refuses to give up his Hannah Andersson training pants and use regular boys' briefs) "No! I want my tightie whities!"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Groaning at the "hari prairie."
I find that the more my life feels interesting, the harder it is to blog about. I have more to say on the ordinary ho-hum days.
"Hari Prarie" - You're pretty funny. I like that.
Post a Comment