A fairy tale come true

I forgot to mention this in my recent Disney post.

A highlight of our Magic Kingdom visit was going to be the parade. Tweenie was so excited to see Cinderella, the Prince, and everyone else "in real life Mom, can you believe it?!"

When the pumpkin coach passed by, Cinderella waved and smiled at her. The Prince winked, and then bowed to her. Tweenie giggled, turned her head bashfully away and blushed. A real scarlet-cheeked eyelash-fluttering blush, and the first time to my knowledge.

She smiled shyly about it all day. I think she's officially in love.

I know this picture is crapola, but in my defense I had a squealing 7-year-old yanking on my arm at the time.

So You Think You Can Dance?

We had the pleasure of attending the PTA program last night; 100 or so remarkably well-behaved 2nd graders, assorted staff members and PTA-ers, and bleachers-full of fanning sweating parents and younger siblings.

What could have been a most odious evening in a non-climate controlled box of gymnasium was surprisingly entertaining.

Each class had to present a choreographed dance and then they combined to shake their groove thang to the Macarena and several other numbers. Their gym teacher must have quite the sense of humor because those kids had moves! They actually know how to do the sprinkler move, which despite my swell style I haven't yet mastered. The John-Travolta-eye thing, the putcha-hands-ina-air (whoo whoo), even air guitar; I tell ya, these kids were cool!

Any time I try gettin' jiggy wid it I get shouted down and banished from wherever the music is playing. Sheesh, my kids haven't even reached double-digits yet and already I embarrass them.

(evil laugh)

And so it begins...

Tweenie always dumps out her book bag in the front hall when she gets home from school and it drives me nuts! On this occasion, though, it was worth it.

I smudged out the names to thwart any stalkers that may happen by my little blog, but the note was in fact signed and addressed to my daughter. Who's much too young to even play boyfriend/girlfriend during recess, never mind receive love notes.

What did she do about this? It was pretty hilarious; she tattled to the teacher because she was mad about it. In the end, it turns out the note was a prank pulled by another boy.

Before I found out that particular detail, though, I showed the note to Husband.

"Git out yer steel-toed boots, honey, 'cuz ya got some butt-whuppin' ta do."

Actually, Husband was not as amused as I was. He questioned me very thoroughly about the boy involved - did I know him? His family? Is it a friend of Tweenie's? Where did you find this? When? What did Tweenie say about it?

I snorted and laughed the whole time, which didn't improve matters. Neither did my explanation that this sort of thing happened to me at this age too. Not impressed.

The rest of the day, Husband sighed and talked about how our kids are growing up so fast... yeah, a little reminder like a love letter will have that effect I guess.

Gettin' ripped

So I recently won a workout DVD through ChickAdvisor (there's the plug, misschickie!), and although it took me a while to get off my keyster - you may recall it was quite sore for a while - I recently started using it regularly.

Yesterday evening as I was lounging around in my sweats I had one of those big, full body yawns (I just love those) and as I cat-stretched all over the couch and half onto Tweenie's lap, she remarked:

"Wow, Mom! You lost weight! You lost a lotta weight! I mean, you really lost A TON of WEIGHT!"

Ok, I have lost maybe 2 lbs but my fatpack has slowly congealed into something more resembling a flattish stomach region. The point is, I haven't really lost anything that noticeable, but apparantly it was enough to elicit this, um, wonderful compliment. After all, she did mention my size in the past...

You a bad puddy tat!

Twit has been "playing" with a bird all day. I finally rescued the poor thing from her because she wouldn't just kill it already.

It escaped into the house and I had a difficult 45 minutes chasing it back out. The last thing I wanted was for it to die behind the computer desk (where, incidentally, there is a heating vent). Eventually I got it out and it sat on the porch.

It still hasn't moved, except to twitch and peep piteously. I locked Twit inside to give it time to recuperate - unless it's fatally injured, in which case it really needs to die outside for sanitary reasons.

Tweenie came home shortly after that. She defended Twit vehemently, no surprise. When the topic turned to the fate of the poor birdie, she naturally wanted to adopt it too.

It's not that I hate animals; quite the opposite in fact. I just don't like being the one left holding the bag (of poop, all too often as it happens). We talked at length about why bringing the bird inside would not necessarily be a good idea. I was just getting to the part about the great circle of life when she cut me off.

"Sorry, ma, my show's on."

I suppose I should simply be grateful that I got my way...