This is brilliant.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
That little boy's gotta think 'You got a pet. You got a responsibility.' If your dog gets lost you don't look for an hour then call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that $%@#ing dog.
So, I'm running through my repetoire of kids songs the other day: The fishy song, Bill Grogan's Goat, Baby Beluga,"He's Got the Whole World In His Hands" with a few questionable additions, "What I Got" by Sublime before I realize it references pot and cocaine and have to switch mid-song, the usuals...
And then I land on the Five Little Ducks Song.
I've got a problem with this song.
Sure, it teaches counting.
Counting backwards, no less.
But you've got to wonder what exactly we're teaching our kids here.
Let me refresh your memory as to the lyrics of this song:
Five little ducks went out to play
over the hills and far away
mother duck said "quack, quack, quack"
but only four little ducks came back...
FOUR little ducks.."
And on and on.
I've got two big questions for you, Mother Duck:
(1) WHERE THE CRAP IS YOUR KID?
You sent your five kids out and only four came back. Are you a little curious about where that last one went? You know, just because you have five kids doesn't mean you can spare one. There are three major possibilities here:
(a) Someone kidnapped your kid.
(b) Your kid is somewhere in the woods, hurt and crying for help. Possibly a tree fell on his leg, and now he has to make the heartbreaking decision: do I bleed out, or do I cut my own duck leg off with a rusty Swiss Army knife, sans anesthesia, to save my life? This isn't really a decision that any child should have to make.
(c) Your other four kids did something terrible to that fifth kid. Possibly they sold him for drugs. Or tied him to a tree and left him for dead. Did you even ASK the other four where the fifth is? Because if they're all like "We don't know", I might consider pressing them a bit harder.
My second question is this:
(2) WHY DO YOU KEEP SENDING YOUR KIDS OUTSIDE WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING KIDNAPPED?
I think the saying goes "Kidnap my kid once, shame on you. Kidnap my kid twice, shame on me." Something like that, anyways. It doesn't exactly take a brain surgeon to realize that if your kids keep disappearing, you maybe shouldn't keep sending them outside to play. Where do you live, exactly? It isn't safe, wherever it is. Why don't you get a membership to the Y and send them there if you're living amidst a war zone?
Mother Duck, the only conclusion I can come to is that you are strung out on cocaine, or heroin, or possibly crystal meth. Perhaps it's your drug dealer who keeps stealing your children. What he doesn't realize is that you're so high, you don't even notice, and that's not the way to get the money you owe him.
And lastly, let me tell you something. I don't really even condone spanking, but if I sent that last duck out and all five came back like "ha ha, mom! we all pretended like we were kidnapped", those kids would be in for the spanking of their lives.
And that's why I went back to singing "What I Got", because both songs are about people with strung-out moms, so what's it matter? Plus, the Sublime song has a better beat. Though it doesn't teach counting...
So, I'm running through my repetoire of kids songs the other day: The fishy song, Bill Grogan's Goat, Baby Beluga,"He's Got the Whole World In His Hands" with a few questionable additions, "What I Got" by Sublime before I realize it references pot and cocaine and have to switch mid-song, the usuals...
And then I land on the Five Little Ducks Song.
I've got a problem with this song.
Sure, it teaches counting.
Counting backwards, no less.
But you've got to wonder what exactly we're teaching our kids here.
Let me refresh your memory as to the lyrics of this song:
Five little ducks went out to play
over the hills and far away
mother duck said "quack, quack, quack"
but only four little ducks came back...
FOUR little ducks.."
And on and on.
I've got two big questions for you, Mother Duck:
(1) WHERE THE CRAP IS YOUR KID?
You sent your five kids out and only four came back. Are you a little curious about where that last one went? You know, just because you have five kids doesn't mean you can spare one. There are three major possibilities here:
(a) Someone kidnapped your kid.
(b) Your kid is somewhere in the woods, hurt and crying for help. Possibly a tree fell on his leg, and now he has to make the heartbreaking decision: do I bleed out, or do I cut my own duck leg off with a rusty Swiss Army knife, sans anesthesia, to save my life? This isn't really a decision that any child should have to make.
(c) Your other four kids did something terrible to that fifth kid. Possibly they sold him for drugs. Or tied him to a tree and left him for dead. Did you even ASK the other four where the fifth is? Because if they're all like "We don't know", I might consider pressing them a bit harder.
My second question is this:
(2) WHY DO YOU KEEP SENDING YOUR KIDS OUTSIDE WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING KIDNAPPED?
I think the saying goes "Kidnap my kid once, shame on you. Kidnap my kid twice, shame on me." Something like that, anyways. It doesn't exactly take a brain surgeon to realize that if your kids keep disappearing, you maybe shouldn't keep sending them outside to play. Where do you live, exactly? It isn't safe, wherever it is. Why don't you get a membership to the Y and send them there if you're living amidst a war zone?
Mother Duck, the only conclusion I can come to is that you are strung out on cocaine, or heroin, or possibly crystal meth. Perhaps it's your drug dealer who keeps stealing your children. What he doesn't realize is that you're so high, you don't even notice, and that's not the way to get the money you owe him.
And lastly, let me tell you something. I don't really even condone spanking, but if I sent that last duck out and all five came back like "ha ha, mom! we all pretended like we were kidnapped", those kids would be in for the spanking of their lives.
And that's why I went back to singing "What I Got", because both songs are about people with strung-out moms, so what's it matter? Plus, the Sublime song has a better beat. Though it doesn't teach counting...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My Thursday Brush With Death
Okay, that's a little dramatic. But still...
I love, love, love Kalamazoo.
I also love downtown Kalamazoo, but let's be honest and say that you will meet some of the sketchiest people alive there.
Today I met a man with a tracheotomy voice box, which in itself is not sketchy in any way, but I like to set the scene for you. This man is sketchy. If I tried to describe it to you, you wouldn't exactly get what I mean. Just trust me on this one.
It went like this:
Brady and I are going to the library (AWESOMEST library), and I get the stroller out of the trunk and put him in it, and lock the car, and stroll the stroller up onto the sidewalk. Just then, this man is walking by, so I say hello, and he says hello, and we chit chat, small talk.
Him: How's your day?
Me: Oh, good. Got my coffee. (Yeah, I'm like a genius of small talk, eh?)
Him: Well, that's all you need.
Me: Yeah.
So we walk up to the light on the corner and wait for it to turn red.
While we're waiting, my new friend, speaking to no one in particular, pushes the button on his voice box and says "God, please don't let the devil talk me out of doing what I know I have to do."
Okay.
Maybe I'm paranoid (yes), but does that not make you think that he's going to haul a gun out of his back pocket and kill you?
My immediate thought was the beginning of that book "I Know This Much Is True", where the guy is schizophrenic and saws his arm off in a library because he thought that God wanted him to.
Luckily, that didn't happen.
I was really happy to find out that that was apparently NOT what he knew he had to do.
Either that or the devil talked him out of it.
We crossed the street and I went into the library and he walked off down toward the outdoor mall. Probably what he knew he had to do was apply for a job, or finish "Ulysses", or recycle more often, and I am just a horrible, judgemental person.
P.S. Today, my Gambit-obsessed friend from the "Big Tree" coffee shop was wearing purple-tinted John Lennon glasses. It was difficult to carry on a conversation.
Okay, that's a little dramatic. But still...
I love, love, love Kalamazoo.
I also love downtown Kalamazoo, but let's be honest and say that you will meet some of the sketchiest people alive there.
Today I met a man with a tracheotomy voice box, which in itself is not sketchy in any way, but I like to set the scene for you. This man is sketchy. If I tried to describe it to you, you wouldn't exactly get what I mean. Just trust me on this one.
It went like this:
Brady and I are going to the library (AWESOMEST library), and I get the stroller out of the trunk and put him in it, and lock the car, and stroll the stroller up onto the sidewalk. Just then, this man is walking by, so I say hello, and he says hello, and we chit chat, small talk.
Him: How's your day?
Me: Oh, good. Got my coffee. (Yeah, I'm like a genius of small talk, eh?)
Him: Well, that's all you need.
Me: Yeah.
So we walk up to the light on the corner and wait for it to turn red.
While we're waiting, my new friend, speaking to no one in particular, pushes the button on his voice box and says "God, please don't let the devil talk me out of doing what I know I have to do."
Okay.
Maybe I'm paranoid (yes), but does that not make you think that he's going to haul a gun out of his back pocket and kill you?
My immediate thought was the beginning of that book "I Know This Much Is True", where the guy is schizophrenic and saws his arm off in a library because he thought that God wanted him to.
Luckily, that didn't happen.
I was really happy to find out that that was apparently NOT what he knew he had to do.
Either that or the devil talked him out of it.
We crossed the street and I went into the library and he walked off down toward the outdoor mall. Probably what he knew he had to do was apply for a job, or finish "Ulysses", or recycle more often, and I am just a horrible, judgemental person.
P.S. Today, my Gambit-obsessed friend from the "Big Tree" coffee shop was wearing purple-tinted John Lennon glasses. It was difficult to carry on a conversation.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
More Where That Came From
1. You know what I don't like? When I google myself (oh, shut up- you've done it before), and google suggests things, some OTHER girl with my name comes up and has 18,000 results. Stop having my name and being more famous than me. That's why I gave Brady such a long frickin' name- he'll never have the disappointment of finding himself, only not himself, when he sits around Googling his name. So what if all that comes up is the shameful time results from that 5K he ran in college. At least it will be him.
This reminds me of a story.
A few years back, I had a MySpace profile. One day, someone sent me an email, and it said "This has to be the (my name) from XYZ school in Alaska. There's no way there are two (my name)'s with bright red hair like that."
Well, apparently there is some way. Because I've never lived in Alaska.
I hate how people are always trying to BE me.
Get your own identity.
2. I've been reading a lot of parental information handouts from my pediatrician lately. This is because I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. I went looking for the one on pacifiers, because I curious if I was creating a mentally unstable child by sticking a pacifier in his mouth every time he cries.
Let me tell you, if you want to feel better about yourself as a parent, read the handouts from your pediatrician.
The thing is, when they specifically tell you not to do asinine things, you know that the only reason that they're telling you is because someone, somewhere did it. Kind of like the McDonald's coffee cups that say Caution! Contents are hot! (no crap?).
Anyhow, here are my 2 favorite pacifier instructions/warnings from my pediatrician handouts:
1. Though the pacifier may fall out of the child's mouth while he sleeps, you should never attempt to attach the pacifier to your child with tape or other materials.
Really? Don't put tape over your child's mouth? Why? I mean, he's got a nose, can't he just breathe out of that? Isn't that why it's there, for like, back-up?
2. Never prop a bottle up in your child's crib so that they can feed themselves when hungry. It is simply too dangerous.
Prop a bottle up for self-feeding? Like that water thing we used to have in my hamster cage? Whatever genius did this also failed to note that babies can't MOVE or pick things up yet. If your kid is cognizant enough to wake up in the middle of the night, locate a bottle that's been left in his crib, eat, and go back to sleep, then he's probably old enough to get up and make himself a midnight snack, and you shouldn't even need to prop the bottle up.
Listen, I'm not trying to act like I'm super-parent. I've only had Brady for four weeks and I've already done some stupid things. For instance, the other night I picked him up out of his crib and his whole side was wet. It didn't smell, though. And his diaper seemed dry, so it wasn't like he peed THROUGH the diaper, and he seemed dry except for that one part. I thought to myself, "Man, that kid is sweating a LOT". Then I put him back in his crib, on his other side so the wet side could dry, and let him go back to sleep. Later, I felt the sheet and realized it was wet, and no kid sweats THAT much, and then I realized that he was somehow peeing out the side of his diaper, and baby pee doesn't really smell, and brilliant me just let him sleep in it. Awesome, Laura.
That said, I would never tape anything to him.
3. A few more stories about my favorite coffee place
I can't write the name of the coffee place anymore. Here's why: There's this special thing you can do to see if anyone has linked to your blog, and I was looking at it the other day, and I found one that I didn't recognize. So I went to it, and it turns out that it's the personal link page of the FOUNDER of said unnameable coffee place, and he has found my blog where I bash his barista for talking to me about my pregnancy. Underneath the link, it says "Not good press. Must respond."
Freaked me right out.
So anyways, same coffee place, different location.
I walk in, and the girl says "Oh my God, you have lost SOOOO much weight since you had that baby! Seriously, your face is MUCH thinner."
So I had pregnancy fat face and no one told me.
Cool.
Same coffee place, location where pregnancy girl work(ed?):
I pay for my coffee in drive through.
Barista guy: I don't think Gambit could work here.
Me: ... who?
BG: Gambit. The X-man?
Me: ......
He then launched into a several minute discussion of who Gambit is, and why he couldn't work at a coffee shop, apparently because he somehow throws exploding cards? I clearly don't know who the crap Gambit is.
The conversation ended when I, trying to go completely against my nature and be conversational, told him that my mom really likes the X-Men movies.
His response:
"Well, that's probably just because of Hugh Jackman. Women really like Hugh Jackman."
Uh huh. Right then, I was picturing in my head the exact look my mom would have given him if he'd tried to tell her that she only like the X-Men because of Hugh Jackman, and it would NOT have been pretty.
I really like it when people say things like "Women really like...".
It makes me feel like a panda bear. Like "Well, you know, pandas really like bamboo."
Pandas like bamboo, women like Hugh Jackman.
The world is crystal clear again, thank god.
4.
Me:.. should we take him out of the swing and put him in his crib?
Rob: No. He's asleep.
Me: What if he falls out of the swing?
Rob:... what are you talking about? You just made up a problem.
1. You know what I don't like? When I google myself (oh, shut up- you've done it before), and google suggests things, some OTHER girl with my name comes up and has 18,000 results. Stop having my name and being more famous than me. That's why I gave Brady such a long frickin' name- he'll never have the disappointment of finding himself, only not himself, when he sits around Googling his name. So what if all that comes up is the shameful time results from that 5K he ran in college. At least it will be him.
This reminds me of a story.
A few years back, I had a MySpace profile. One day, someone sent me an email, and it said "This has to be the (my name) from XYZ school in Alaska. There's no way there are two (my name)'s with bright red hair like that."
Well, apparently there is some way. Because I've never lived in Alaska.
I hate how people are always trying to BE me.
Get your own identity.
2. I've been reading a lot of parental information handouts from my pediatrician lately. This is because I have no idea what I'm doing as a parent. I went looking for the one on pacifiers, because I curious if I was creating a mentally unstable child by sticking a pacifier in his mouth every time he cries.
Let me tell you, if you want to feel better about yourself as a parent, read the handouts from your pediatrician.
The thing is, when they specifically tell you not to do asinine things, you know that the only reason that they're telling you is because someone, somewhere did it. Kind of like the McDonald's coffee cups that say Caution! Contents are hot! (no crap?).
Anyhow, here are my 2 favorite pacifier instructions/warnings from my pediatrician handouts:
1. Though the pacifier may fall out of the child's mouth while he sleeps, you should never attempt to attach the pacifier to your child with tape or other materials.
Really? Don't put tape over your child's mouth? Why? I mean, he's got a nose, can't he just breathe out of that? Isn't that why it's there, for like, back-up?
2. Never prop a bottle up in your child's crib so that they can feed themselves when hungry. It is simply too dangerous.
Prop a bottle up for self-feeding? Like that water thing we used to have in my hamster cage? Whatever genius did this also failed to note that babies can't MOVE or pick things up yet. If your kid is cognizant enough to wake up in the middle of the night, locate a bottle that's been left in his crib, eat, and go back to sleep, then he's probably old enough to get up and make himself a midnight snack, and you shouldn't even need to prop the bottle up.
Listen, I'm not trying to act like I'm super-parent. I've only had Brady for four weeks and I've already done some stupid things. For instance, the other night I picked him up out of his crib and his whole side was wet. It didn't smell, though. And his diaper seemed dry, so it wasn't like he peed THROUGH the diaper, and he seemed dry except for that one part. I thought to myself, "Man, that kid is sweating a LOT". Then I put him back in his crib, on his other side so the wet side could dry, and let him go back to sleep. Later, I felt the sheet and realized it was wet, and no kid sweats THAT much, and then I realized that he was somehow peeing out the side of his diaper, and baby pee doesn't really smell, and brilliant me just let him sleep in it. Awesome, Laura.
That said, I would never tape anything to him.
3. A few more stories about my favorite coffee place
I can't write the name of the coffee place anymore. Here's why: There's this special thing you can do to see if anyone has linked to your blog, and I was looking at it the other day, and I found one that I didn't recognize. So I went to it, and it turns out that it's the personal link page of the FOUNDER of said unnameable coffee place, and he has found my blog where I bash his barista for talking to me about my pregnancy. Underneath the link, it says "Not good press. Must respond."
Freaked me right out.
So anyways, same coffee place, different location.
I walk in, and the girl says "Oh my God, you have lost SOOOO much weight since you had that baby! Seriously, your face is MUCH thinner."
So I had pregnancy fat face and no one told me.
Cool.
Same coffee place, location where pregnancy girl work(ed?):
I pay for my coffee in drive through.
Barista guy: I don't think Gambit could work here.
Me: ... who?
BG: Gambit. The X-man?
Me: ......
He then launched into a several minute discussion of who Gambit is, and why he couldn't work at a coffee shop, apparently because he somehow throws exploding cards? I clearly don't know who the crap Gambit is.
The conversation ended when I, trying to go completely against my nature and be conversational, told him that my mom really likes the X-Men movies.
His response:
"Well, that's probably just because of Hugh Jackman. Women really like Hugh Jackman."
Uh huh. Right then, I was picturing in my head the exact look my mom would have given him if he'd tried to tell her that she only like the X-Men because of Hugh Jackman, and it would NOT have been pretty.
I really like it when people say things like "Women really like...".
It makes me feel like a panda bear. Like "Well, you know, pandas really like bamboo."
Pandas like bamboo, women like Hugh Jackman.
The world is crystal clear again, thank god.
4.
Me:.. should we take him out of the swing and put him in his crib?
Rob: No. He's asleep.
Me: What if he falls out of the swing?
Rob:... what are you talking about? You just made up a problem.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME, CAUSE I'M SO FRIGGIN HAPPY.
1. Me: Rob...
Rob: Yes?
Me: ... I don't look like a man do I? I mean, I'm not mannish, right?
Rob: ... define 'mannish'
Me: Rob...
Rob: Not an unattractive man
Hey! Remember that part in the ceremony where they say 'Does anyone object'? THANKS EVERYONE. Although, perhaps I SHOULD be thanking you, because apparently I'm so MANNISH that no one else would have married me.
2. Yesterday was our five year wedding anniversary and Rob took me to McDonald's on our way to KC and Aubrey's wedding, where we were taking pictures. And I got to get a combo. That's what five years gets you. Next year: a McFlurry.
3. I've been going to the library to get kids books to read to Brady. Okay. I've got a few favs. Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type is stellar. Such sassy cows! I also enjoy anything involving that sassy pigeon who wants to drive busses and stay up late. The other day I read a book about a squirrel with social anxiety disorder, which I also enjoyed. There are people out there writing kids books who understand that adults have to read the damn books TO the kids and don't want to die of boredom. And then.. there are others.
Some major offenders in the "What's Up With This Book?" category:
1. Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile
What the hell is a crocodile doing living in an NY apartment? Let me tell you a story. When we lived in NY, I remember a news story about a woman who was keeping a tiger in her bathroom and was mauled to death by it. Probably because she read Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile as a child. After I read it, Brady and I had a discussion about why wild animals belong in the wild or at the zoo. CROCODILES ARE INSTRUMENTS OF DEATH. And they don't go grocery shopping with New York housewives.
2. Runaway Bunny
Basic premise: Bunny wants to run away. Scary mom bunny is like "If you leave, I will find you.."
Baby bunny: I'll hide out at sea
Momma bunny: I'll become a boat and sail out to find you!
Baby bunny: I'll hide in a cave!
Momma bunny:I'll get a head lamp and go splunking!
Baby bunny: I don't want to go to school, I want to do drugs with my friends!
Momma bunny: I will hunt you down, baby bunny! I will hire a private detective, and when he finds your strung-out, Good Charlotte-listening, dumpster-diving butt sleeping on your best friend's back porch, he'll grab you and send you to a wilderness camp where you'll have to eat lentils and cry before they let you come home!
YOU'LL NEVER ESCAPE ME BABY BUNNY!
Woah, mom. I wonder why he wants to run away. Maybe it's time to take up knitting or join MOPS or something.
3. Giraffe and a Half
I got halfway through this one and wanted to kill myself, but I thought that quitting would be a bad lesson to teach Brady. He would get to be eight or nine and want to quit T-Ball halfway through the season or trade the violin for the clarinet (only acceptable if you're my sister and THAT astonishingly bad at violin), and it would all be because I didn't finish Giraffe and a Half. So I kept reading. But I told him that this had better not become his favorite book.
4. A bone to pick with Goodnight, Moon
I'm down with Goodnight, Moon. But I've got one problem. Goodnight bowl of mush? That, my friend, is filler material. Like in a song where you need something to rhyme and you cant come up with anything, so you make up something random. You can't just make a bowl of mush appear out of nowhere to suit your rhyming purposes. Who's mush was it? And why didn't they take the bowl out to the kitchen and wash it out if they were done with it?
Other things you could have said goodnight to, other than mush:
Goodnight, lush.
Goodnight, Orange Crush (yum)
Goodnight, Rush (the band. I envision this as being the ONLY pop-up page in the 2009 version of Goodnight, Moon. You're reading along, saying goodnight to the old lady in the chair and all the sudden, POW!, there's 3D pop up of Rush on your page. I'd pick out a song for them to be singing, but I couldn't name a Rush song to save my life.)
Goodnight, thrush (a common baby disease, might as well say goodnight)
Or, just don't say goodnight to the brush.
OR- switch the comb and brush.
So, now it says "Goodnight, brush. Goodnight, comb."
(Goodnight, Pontiac Silverdome.
Goodnight, Nickelodean Floam (do you remember that stuff??))
Goodnight, friendly garden gnome)
Anyways, now I'm reading him Harry Potter. Less confusion.
5. I'm done. I'm exhausted. Goodnight, bowl of mush.
1. Me: Rob...
Rob: Yes?
Me: ... I don't look like a man do I? I mean, I'm not mannish, right?
Rob: ... define 'mannish'
Me: Rob...
Rob: Not an unattractive man
Hey! Remember that part in the ceremony where they say 'Does anyone object'? THANKS EVERYONE. Although, perhaps I SHOULD be thanking you, because apparently I'm so MANNISH that no one else would have married me.
2. Yesterday was our five year wedding anniversary and Rob took me to McDonald's on our way to KC and Aubrey's wedding, where we were taking pictures. And I got to get a combo. That's what five years gets you. Next year: a McFlurry.
3. I've been going to the library to get kids books to read to Brady. Okay. I've got a few favs. Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type is stellar. Such sassy cows! I also enjoy anything involving that sassy pigeon who wants to drive busses and stay up late. The other day I read a book about a squirrel with social anxiety disorder, which I also enjoyed. There are people out there writing kids books who understand that adults have to read the damn books TO the kids and don't want to die of boredom. And then.. there are others.
Some major offenders in the "What's Up With This Book?" category:
1. Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile
What the hell is a crocodile doing living in an NY apartment? Let me tell you a story. When we lived in NY, I remember a news story about a woman who was keeping a tiger in her bathroom and was mauled to death by it. Probably because she read Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile as a child. After I read it, Brady and I had a discussion about why wild animals belong in the wild or at the zoo. CROCODILES ARE INSTRUMENTS OF DEATH. And they don't go grocery shopping with New York housewives.
2. Runaway Bunny
Basic premise: Bunny wants to run away. Scary mom bunny is like "If you leave, I will find you.."
Baby bunny: I'll hide out at sea
Momma bunny: I'll become a boat and sail out to find you!
Baby bunny: I'll hide in a cave!
Momma bunny:I'll get a head lamp and go splunking!
Baby bunny: I don't want to go to school, I want to do drugs with my friends!
Momma bunny: I will hunt you down, baby bunny! I will hire a private detective, and when he finds your strung-out, Good Charlotte-listening, dumpster-diving butt sleeping on your best friend's back porch, he'll grab you and send you to a wilderness camp where you'll have to eat lentils and cry before they let you come home!
YOU'LL NEVER ESCAPE ME BABY BUNNY!
Woah, mom. I wonder why he wants to run away. Maybe it's time to take up knitting or join MOPS or something.
3. Giraffe and a Half
I got halfway through this one and wanted to kill myself, but I thought that quitting would be a bad lesson to teach Brady. He would get to be eight or nine and want to quit T-Ball halfway through the season or trade the violin for the clarinet (only acceptable if you're my sister and THAT astonishingly bad at violin), and it would all be because I didn't finish Giraffe and a Half. So I kept reading. But I told him that this had better not become his favorite book.
4. A bone to pick with Goodnight, Moon
I'm down with Goodnight, Moon. But I've got one problem. Goodnight bowl of mush? That, my friend, is filler material. Like in a song where you need something to rhyme and you cant come up with anything, so you make up something random. You can't just make a bowl of mush appear out of nowhere to suit your rhyming purposes. Who's mush was it? And why didn't they take the bowl out to the kitchen and wash it out if they were done with it?
Other things you could have said goodnight to, other than mush:
Goodnight, lush.
Goodnight, Orange Crush (yum)
Goodnight, Rush (the band. I envision this as being the ONLY pop-up page in the 2009 version of Goodnight, Moon. You're reading along, saying goodnight to the old lady in the chair and all the sudden, POW!, there's 3D pop up of Rush on your page. I'd pick out a song for them to be singing, but I couldn't name a Rush song to save my life.)
Goodnight, thrush (a common baby disease, might as well say goodnight)
Or, just don't say goodnight to the brush.
OR- switch the comb and brush.
So, now it says "Goodnight, brush. Goodnight, comb."
(Goodnight, Pontiac Silverdome.
Goodnight, Nickelodean Floam (do you remember that stuff??))
Goodnight, friendly garden gnome)
Anyways, now I'm reading him Harry Potter. Less confusion.
5. I'm done. I'm exhausted. Goodnight, bowl of mush.
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