Last night, about 1AM, we awoke to Bear calling to us from across the hall that he was thirsty.

Being the responsive, loving parents that we are, we both pulled pillows over our heads.

Bear's wail grew progressively louder and more insistent.

I nudged CD.

Me: Rock, Paper, Scissors?

CD: Mutter mutter mutter.

Me: What?

CD: Uh, Brick.

I peered tiredly at my hand in the dim. Me: Paper.

CD (groaning): Uummm clearly peas television.

Me: What?

CD: I'm exercising my nuclear option.

(Note: unfortunately for him, the nuclear option was not available. He ended up fetching the drink for Mr. Thirstypants.)

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This morning, as CD was chasing Bear around trying to get him out the door for school and I was still lazing in bed (after all, my commute has been sharply decreased from ALL THE WAY DOWN THE HALL to: the other side of my bedroom).

Bear scampered into bed with me with a defiant glare at CD.

Bear: I want to stay here in bed with you. I like you best.

Me: I like you, too, but you have to go to school.

Bear (outraged): But they don't let me bring my favorite pillow!

******************************************************

Driving Bear and Elia to a playgroup this afternoon, we came to a congested intersection where a long funeral procession was streaming against the light. (This sparked a whole conversation about 'What is Dead' that I'm still having the shakes over.)

Then, just as the car snarl had grown completely outrageous, an ambulance tried to crash through on their way to, I dunno - save a life or make the day-old sale at the Sara Lee outlet store.

But, Alas!, the hillbillies in the funeral procession decided that the little orange flags on their windows trumped a lights-blazing ambulance and refused to give right-of-way.

All the cars surrounding this little show-down, having seen too many episodes of 'American Idol', thought they should vote on who should win and began chiming in by leaning on their horns. Into this cacophany, the ambulance decided to press the point by turning up its siren to ULTRA SCREECH setting.

As the blood began to gush from my ears,
I muttered: Oh, for heaven's sake! No amount of loud is gonna cure stupid!

From the back seat, Bear: Mommy! You said 'Stupid'! That's a bad word!

Me: Yes, I'm sorry honey. I lost my patience.

Bear: Well, that's no excuse. You should control your words!

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:02 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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