I need to stop feeding my children. They grow too fast and it's too damned expensive.
"Boudreaux, come try on these new shorts that Bumpus bought you. Let's see if they fit."
(Fatty turns back to business in the kitchen.)
(Shuffling and grunting sounds.)
"Mom? They are too small! I can't even get them over my hips!"
Momentary silence.
"Did you unbutton them?"
Pause.
"Oh! Now they fit just fine."
Sunday, July 30, 2006
BRTRU, Stop #727
With this post, I am starting a new tradition. In the spirit of "The Wisdom of Rufus," we will now also enjoy "Boudreaux's Road to Rice University."
Last Wednesday, Boudreaux was playing outside with his buddies, when he stepped in a big steaming pile of Chuckroast Chili out in the dead middle of the yard. He took great pains to hop, one-footed all the way to the back door, not touching the patty-infested foot to the ground. I found him opening the door, about to walk into the house.
"What are you doing?"
"I stepped in dog poo."
"Why didn't you wipe your foot off in the grass?"
"I wanted you to clean it off."
Last Wednesday, Boudreaux was playing outside with his buddies, when he stepped in a big steaming pile of Chuckroast Chili out in the dead middle of the yard. He took great pains to hop, one-footed all the way to the back door, not touching the patty-infested foot to the ground. I found him opening the door, about to walk into the house.
"What are you doing?"
"I stepped in dog poo."
"Why didn't you wipe your foot off in the grass?"
"I wanted you to clean it off."
Fatty Junior in Fine Form
I love this picture of Fatty, Junior! It reminds me that once per year, I get to go chunky dunk at her house and consume a lovely variety and quantity of delicious beverages! Who else out there has a rita machine in her backyard?!?
Wicked Games
Cost of getting Daddy to stop eating his dinner because your hysterical screaming is tearing at his heart strings? Priceless.
Gimme Them Little Shuckers,
or as an alternate title,
Yes, This Conversation Really Happened
Gratooo-eeetus Photo for Blog Posting: Deep Thoughts or Prepping for Poop?
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
So the doctor sends me to the pharmacy with a scribble on a piece of paper. I turn it in, wait an hour, and then return to pick it up. The lady who helps me at the pharmacy is about 45 years old, normal looking...whatever that means.
Pharmacy woman: "That will be $3.24."
Fatty: Hands over money in exchange for package of silver bullets. "Thank you."
PW: "Do you need the pharmacist to answer any questions?"
F, who doesn't ask questions about anything with the word "RECTUM" written on it in all caps: "No, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."
PW: "So, you know where to stick it?"
F: "I have a good idea of where."
PW: "Do you know to take the wrapper off?"
F, who by now has gotten over that tiny ounce of southern-girl restraint and lady-likeness that her Mother worked so hard to teach her: "Do I look like I'd try to eat a tamale with the shuck on it?"
PW: "Well, you'd be surprised by what some people will do."
Who Needs a Tablemate?
And for all you freakishly sensitive people out there who are ready to have CPS marching their chubby little hinies up to my front door, clipboards in hand, YES, I blew off the pizza to cool it a little before setting it on her head! Jeez!
Grandpa and Grandpa
Conversation overheard at dinner tonight, just like an old married couple:
Rufus (just returning from his normal mid-dinner bathroom stop): "My nuts hurt when I pee."
Boudreax: "Don't say that."
R: "Why not? If my nuts hurt, then my nuts hurt."
B: "One day, you're going to grow up and if you want to get married, you're going to have to stop talking like that."
R: "Well, maybe. But my nuts still hurt."
Rufus (just returning from his normal mid-dinner bathroom stop): "My nuts hurt when I pee."
Boudreax: "Don't say that."
R: "Why not? If my nuts hurt, then my nuts hurt."
B: "One day, you're going to grow up and if you want to get married, you're going to have to stop talking like that."
R: "Well, maybe. But my nuts still hurt."
Monday, July 17, 2006
It SPOKE TO ME
Welcome to the Age of Aquarius, young earth mother. Where no one wears undies, where we eat special brownies, and where psycho bunnies speak to us of the wonders of the magical world.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
9 AM at Our House: The 12-Step Program
Last night was not particularly peaceful, with little precious bundle screaming her head off from 5 AM until 6:30 AM, sleeping from 6:30-8, eating from 8-8:45, and then starting the screaming again.
Tired Milk-Wagon-Mama's solution?
Step 1: Give child to her father.
Step 2: Forage through the deep freeze, trying not to fall in head-first.
Step 3: Emerge with full pint of "Everything but the..." Ben and Jerry's.
Step 4: Promise one's self to eat only one 1/2-cup serving.
Step 5: Curiously examine the nutritional information, kindly provided a la our governmental regoooolatshuns.
Step 6: Say "Aw, to HELL WITH IT" and eat the whole thing.
Step 7: Ponder the Vallium-like effects of consuming 1240 calories, 120% of my daily fat, and 240% of my daily saturated fat in one 15-minute sitting.
Step 8: Post highly poetic confessional to family blog.
Steps 9-12: Ponder how long one must wait to do this again...
Tired Milk-Wagon-Mama's solution?
Step 1: Give child to her father.
Step 2: Forage through the deep freeze, trying not to fall in head-first.
Step 3: Emerge with full pint of "Everything but the..." Ben and Jerry's.
Step 4: Promise one's self to eat only one 1/2-cup serving.
Step 5: Curiously examine the nutritional information, kindly provided a la our governmental regoooolatshuns.
Step 6: Say "Aw, to HELL WITH IT" and eat the whole thing.
Step 7: Ponder the Vallium-like effects of consuming 1240 calories, 120% of my daily fat, and 240% of my daily saturated fat in one 15-minute sitting.
Step 8: Post highly poetic confessional to family blog.
Steps 9-12: Ponder how long one must wait to do this again...
6 AM at Our House
Notice the Babwa Wawa type fuzzy focus, as this was taken in light of the wee morning without a flash.
Jack-o-Lantern
Unlike his older brother, who waited for his teeth to literally be hanging by some flesh thread and sending his mother into horrified convulsions, Rufus just took it upon himself to yank the damned thing out (once it was loose enough to not be terribly painful). It's all about the bucks.
Taken as I Was Diving for Cover
$14 worth of fireworks...with the grand finale being a pile of used turtles, chickens, dookie worms, and sparklers being placed upon a full package of black cats.
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