Things Kids Say

Linda is usually the one who comes up with the zingers, but today it is Elizabeth's turn. Last night's bedtime didn't move all that smoothly. Elizabeth was a bit worked up because Terry was clipping her fingernails on the changing table. When the mood in the room started to turn south, I told Terry I would take over for her. When Terry and I made the switch, Elizabeth immediately pointed her finger inches from my nose and very sternly told me "I need you not to be angry at me."

A Scholar And An Athelete

The last post was all about Linda's predatory goalscoring instincts on the soccer field. This one is about her stellar academic accomplishments. Our little Peapod got her reportcard last week and did exceptionally well. Click the image to see it full size.

GOL! GOL! GOL!

Last night Linda scored the first ever goal of her soccer career. Linda spent the majority of the game with her hands on her hips breathing heavily to let all of us know that princesses normally don’t work this hard. However, about 5 minutes in when her teammate Flora cleared the ball from the defensive end, Linda sprung into action. She picked up Flora’s clearance with two hands, positioned it in front of the opposing net, held off a would be defender with her booty, and right-footed the shot into the opposing goal. Not exactly a goal according to the rules, but she did kick it and it did go into the net. That was enough for me.

Sugar And Spice And Everything Nice

Last night Terry had a business appointment so I got to do bedtime/bathtime with the girls all by myself. Normally things go pretty smoothly when it is just the three of us, and with the exception of having to Heimlich Elizabeth after she half-swallowed a nickel, last night was no no different. We read books together and I got each of them down in their beds and shut out the lights. I planted a kiss on Elizabeth’s forehead and said “goodnight sweetheart, Daddy loves you.” She responded to my parental tenderness with a fart so noisy that even as I type this I still cannot believe a butt as tiny as hers could produce. Shouldn't the diaper muffle it a little? How can her micro-booty generate that much energy?

Next up was Linda. As I walked over to her bed she said “I can’t get comfortable, my bed is too hard.” I responded with “it’s bedtime and I cannot fix that now. Close you eyes and go to sleep. Daddy loves you.” She countered with a fart of her own that I can only describe as the sound a handful of pudding would make if it was thrown at a brick wall. Amazing. Just another night with my little angels.