I Kissed FedEx / And She Liked It

I was crankpotting around the house this morning, both because it’s all wet and dark since the great heat wave broke the other day and because it’s only August which means I Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet W/R/T two small children and one big meanie under one roof while the rain cascades in sheets and we grow weary to the point of exhaustion of each others’ company.

To get before October:

– hobbies
– play groups / local friends
– better at wrestling children into swimsuits
– more wine

I had no right to complain because Fresco was napping from 7:30 until 10 as it turned out, which gave me lots of time to hang with Trombone, wash dishes, eat toast, but in my head, complain I did because usually we’re out before 9 am and I was eager to get to the Most Depressing Mall in the Universe in order to visit the strangely huge dollar store within it that I might purchase Rainy Day Accessories such as paper, paint, glue, plastic Go Diego Go plates, etc.

Also, Trombone gets up at 7 and 2 hours is about as long as he wants to play at home without starting to re-enact the Los Angeles riots, including the looting and burning.

Fresco woke, I dressed us all for our outing, got the children strapped into their seats and was stuffing my face with peanut buttered bread while trying to find another shoe and a knock came at the door. It was a FedEx delivery person. She asked how I was and I said “arsesome” because my mouth was gummed up with peanut butter. She said she had a power adapter for me. I squealed with glee. She seemed pleased to have made me squeal with glee. I sure think it would be fun to be a FedEx delivery person. You get to wear shorts every day and drive a truck and bring people things they want.

And then, because I am a Truly Superior Person, I continued on, leaving my power adapter at home for later, so that we could get to the mall before the lunch rush.

When we got home, I tossed Fresco onto the couch with eleventeen fresh bibs, opened up Trombone’s new paints and handed him a brush and a pad of paper * and plugged Gloria in. “Charging,” she announced. Ah, sweet charging bliss.

But Gloria? You’re on notice. One more thing goes on you and you’re going swimming with the fishes. I’m not even starting a “computer” category because this is my last post about you. SA doesn’t need much of an excuse to order one of those Dell computers with Ubuntu on it. (In fact I think he might be sabotaging you while I sleep. You’ll let me know, won’t you? Now that you can turn on long enough to send email? Thanks.)

* The other day I bought Trombone some finger paints. I got them open and showed him how it was done. He got the “gross” face and took a big step back. “Mummy, they’re squishy! Put them away!” FAIL. I know he likes to paint, though, because he has an easel & all kinds of great stuff at my parents’ place. So today I bought the washable poster paints in the little pots, the ones that come with a little brush. Open it up. Hand him the brush. A few tentative dabs at the paper later, he’s gone to five blades. His hand is painted with three different colours and he’s smearing it like a mad thing all over the paper.

“Hey look, you’re finger painting,” I said, quickly moving the baby out of range.
“It’s squishy!” he said, “I wanna do more finger paints!”